


Finding Home

by Desirae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baker Dean Winchester, Best Friends to Lovers, Castiel Whump, Childhood Kidnapping, Dean Whump, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2019, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Good Parents John Winchester & Mary Winchester, Good parents Chuck & Becky Novak, Humor, M/M, Mistaken Identity, PTSD, Past Childhood Trauma, Profound Bond, Rating: NC17, True Love, Writer Castiel, all that comes with the gay sex my friends, hurt comfort, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-21 06:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: Dean Winchester lived a quiet life running his bakery. Aside from family, Dean had no desire to let anyone inside. The more people you cared about, the more you had to lose; A hard lesson he'd learned at the tender age of eight when Dean’s best friend was kidnapped right before his eyes.Dean was forever haunted by the event, although he hadn’t realized quite how much until Emmanuel James Milton breezed into his life; waking his sleeping heart with a complete lack filter and achingly familiar eyes.An author, with no family and traumatic past of his own, Emmanuel never felt like he belonged anywhere until he walked into The Honeybee Bakery and met Dean. It’s not long before they find out that there is a reason for their profound bond.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This story has been a labor of love and tears and I am excited for you to check it out and let me know what you think. The gorgeous art in this fic is by the amazing [dmsilvisart](https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com), please check their work and show them some love. They were a dream to work with and I am super grateful I got the opportunity. The amount of work put in, was so above and beyond.
> 
> Thanks as always to my teapot/parabatai Bek, who test drives all my fics and keeps me focused. Without her, this fic would have never left my prompt folder, and to my lovely friend & beta, Zoelily, (Her Destiel&Cockles fics are phenomenal, check them out [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily/works)) who made this fic legible for you.
> 
> I also want to thank the Plymouth police department, pointedly my neighbor who is a state trooper, for answering my questions and helping me make sure my procedure was accurate.
> 
> And of course, thank you to our mods who as always, do such a great job running this challenge.

**   
**

Emmanuel hated his name. He didn’t really know why. He understood that it was phonetically pleasing for many, but he’d never felt like an Emmanuel, or a _ Manny, _as his late mother had tried to call him. Thirty-eight years old and he had resisted his name for as long as he could remember, his early years being a bit hazy due to a childhood accident. Emmanuel would often tell people his name was James or Jimmy. That still never felt quite right either but using his middle name somehow made his guts feel less twisted. More often than not, he avoided his name on a whole.

Now here he was, in Salt Meadow Harbor, the one place his mother could not stop talking about in her last months alive. Until then, it was a place he had never even heard of but inexplicably, it felt like home which was just another thing that made him angry. Just like he was angry that he felt like a liar when he tried to answer a simple question like _ what is your- _

“Name?” the brunette in front of him asked again, looking at him with soft, sable eyes that seemed to carry a wicked mischievousness in their sparkle. 

“Emmanuel James Milton,” he finally spat out, because of course one often answers the wait staff with their full name. He nearly rolled his eyes at himself even as the girl smirked at him.

“That’s quite a mouthful. I’m calling you Clarence,” she nodded as she spoke, as though the decision was made and that would be all. Bemusedly, Emmanuel took a seat at a small table by the window. It was still early in the small seaside town, just past nine, yet the streets were already bustling. Couples with fanny packs and camera phones out traipsed down the boardwalk as families in their flip-flops, lugging coolers, trailed after their children, taking the narrow wooden ramps down to the beach. 

Though he was sat in a bakery, enjoying the enticing scent of old-fashioned apple pie, he knew that outside of the gleaming glass door, the sea air was suffused with the smell of tanning oil and briny ocean. It was invigorating and he couldn’t help the pop of excitement that this- enjoying coffee and pie in a cozy bakery while people watching- could be his new normal.

“Clarence?” a voice called out as the most stunning human on bowed legs scanned the dining area. He was tall, probably an inch or two over Emmanuel's own six-foot frame. He looked to be around the same age as himself. The man’s hair was a rich kaleidoscope of browns and when the sunlight streaming in through the windows hit it, the strands gleamed gold, caramel and dark burnt honey.

Wearing a charming smile, warm green eyes lit upon Emmanuel’s and for a brief second, he swore he felt a spark of connection as their gazes locked. It was gone in a blink as the man approached with his coffee and a slice of lemon meringue.

“Are you Clarence?” his voice was a drawling baritone that had a soothing effect. “Welcome to Honeybee Bakery, I’m Dean Winchester.”

_Dean. _An echo of remembrance gone before it could fully take root flashed at the sound of the name. Emmanuel tasted it on his tongue as he mouthed the word, enjoying the solidness.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled widely.

“Some pipes!” Dean said brightly and Emmanuel felt his cheeks warm. “ You gonna tell me what your name is, sunshine?”

“I’m still deciding,” Emmanuel said pensively, then smiled softly at Dean’s amused expression. “But for today, let’s go with… E.J.”

Dean nodded as if to say, _ of course, this is a completely normal conversation. _

“Sure. E.J. sounds good. It’s quick, to the point,” Dean humored him, without any trace of meanness. Emmanuel’s brows rose in surprise as Dean casually slid across from him in the booth. He glanced around, wondering if Dean’s boss would mind him sitting with a patron while he was at work. Not that he minded, the view was quite spectacular.

“So, E.J., what brings you to Salt Meadow Harbor?” Dean asked, reclining, arm stretched across the back of the padded booth.

“My mother died a few weeks ago and this was the last place she spoke of before she passed,” he said bluntly.

Dean blanched as he leaned forward, hands reaching out to cover Emmanuel’s in a gesture of comfort.

“Shit, man, I’m so sorry. So you’re here visiting? Last wishes or something?” Dean asked softly and Emmanuel shook his head, taking a bite of pie that had his taste buds singing happily.

“I moved here,” Emmanuel said when he swallowed, nearly laughing at the mix of shock and obvious interest on Dean’s face.

“You seriously just up and moved here? You got family here?”

Emmanuel shook his head and took a moment to sip at his coffee. Light roast with a dash of cinnamon, perfect.

“No,” Emmanuel didn’t look up as he gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You’re thinking I’m crazy, aren’t you?” he asked, chancing a glance at Dean’s face, surprised when he found only kindness.

“I was more thinking brave. I could never just up and leave everything behind like that.” There was a wisp of sadness in Dean’s tone that Emmanuel wondered at.

“I really had nothing left to stay for back in Pontiac,” he amended, as the small apartment in Illinois, like so many others, had never felt like home.

“But why here? Was this town special to your mom?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Again, Emmanuel found himself speaking freely, not sure what it was about this beautiful man who made him want to spill all of his secrets.

“I honestly have no idea. She wasn’t really herself towards the end and a lot of what she said didn't make a lot of sense,” Emmanuel said, sadly. Anna Milton had been a complicated woman. He didn’t know if his mother had ever truly been happy. “She was just adamant that I needed to come here. We, um, we never really stayed in one place when I was a child. I was homeschooled, so I didn’t really have many friends,” Emmanuel said. “It wasn’t until I was eighteen that we finally settled down in one place for more than a year.”

“Man, I gotta say, that sounds lonely,” Dean said sympathetically and Emmanuel nodded. “Were you an army brat?”

“No. Nothing like that. My mother… she never talked about my father. I don’t even know his name. If I knew him when I was younger, I don’t remember,” Emmanuel paused, taking in Dean’s interested expression. He couldn’t remember when he had ever spoken so openly with anyone before. Let alone a stranger. “ My mom and I were in an accident when I was around eight, so much of my memories before that are fuzzy. Though sometimes, I do dream of the beach. Wow,” Emmanuel said, a little bit embarrassed, “I’m sorry. That’s really heavy for a first meeting and I am sure I’m holding you up from your work.”

“No worries at all, man, I asked you. As for work,” Dean flashed him a heart-stopping smile, “I own this bakery, so we’re good on that front as well.”

Emmanuel’s face lit up at the news. “This place is yours? It’s lovely, Dean. I love honeybees. I always wanted to keep hives,” he said, pausing when a look he could only describe as bittersweet crossed Dean’s face. It was gone quickly, as if it had never been there, moss green eyes bright and lively as they watched Emmanuel intently. “It truly is a delightful shop.“ The booths were padded in sunny yellow, the table-tops a glossy honey-toned color. Little beehive sugar and cinnamon shakers acted as centerpieces and framed photos of bees sipping from various flowers and lavish gardens were showcased on the pale green walls.

“Thanks,” Dean said proudly. “Been open goin’ on eleven years now with my business partner Gabriel. He’ll be in later. We alternate opening because as much as I love baking, being up at the ass-crack of dawn every day sucks,” he said frankly and Emmanuel laughed.

“Yes, I imagine it does,” Emmanuel remarked as he watched a young pair of twenty-somethings push through the door with baker’s trays laden with cupcakes, carefully carrying them over to the display cases.

“What about you? Now that you’ve decided to settle down here, I mean. Do you have a job? Where do you live?” Dean held up a hand. “You don’t have to answer that. I heard it come out of my mouth and I sound kind of creepy.”

Emmanuel let out a bark of laughter that seemed to set Dean at ease as he laid his hand back down on the table and flashed him a sheepish grin.

“It’s fine. This may sound creepy in its own way for someone you’ve just met, but… I trust you,” Emmanuel cocked his head at Dean and he heard a soft puff of air escape the man’s full, pink lips.

“Uh, yeah. Same,” Dean seemed to be studying his features and Emmanuel felt a little self-conscious under the perusal but distracted himself by answering Dean’s other question.

“Well, right now my address is room two-seventeen at the Seaside Inn.”

Dean wrinkled his nose and Emmanuel couldn’t blame him. The less than desirable motel was definitely not his first choice but being summer in a beach town left him few options for vacancies and he hadn’t thought it would be this hard to find an apartment. Money wasn’t even an issue, there was just nothing available long term until September.

“Dude. That’s the kind of place you rent by the hour,” Dean said and Emmanuel knew he wasn’t wrong. From what he had seen in the few days he’d been here, Salt Meadow Harbor was a quaint little town with a gorgeous baker and ice cream shops, manicured lawns and playgrounds and fireworks on the boardwalk. But, at night, it was a little like spring break. Further up the strip were the more risque bars and sex shops. Castiel’s motel sat next to a gas station with a 7/11 on one side and a pizza shop on the other. It was directly facing a strip club called _ Leave it to Beavers. _

“I know. But it’s only until an apartment becomes available. I can deal with it. I've slept in worse,” Emmanuel said with a shrug that did nothing for the almost pained expression on Dean’s face. He reached a hand out to Dean’s and squeezed. “It’s truly fine, Dean. I can take care of myself. I’m quite fit, you know.”

“Oh, I noticed,” the words sounded rushed, and a look at the tips of Dean’s ears turning pink as the man rubbed at the back of his neck suggested maybe he hadn’t meant to say them out loud. 

Emmanuel found him exceedingly charming. “As for my work, I’m a writer.”

Dean’s eyes widened and for a moment Emmanuel got lost in a sea of green and gold. Dean seemed just as distracted and it wasn’t until the door chimed, admitting another customer that they broke their gaze. 

“A writer huh? Like novels? Let me try and guess the genre,” Dean looked him over playfully. “Short-sleeved sweater vest and tie.” Dean peeked under the table and Emmanuel laughed at his antics as Dean came up spouting “Jeans and sneakers. Hmm. Very _ casual professor _,” he said and Emmanuel grinned. “I’m gonna guess crime drama?”

“Not even close.”

“Sci-fi?”

Emmanuel shook his head, still smiling as Dean bit his lip thoughtfully.

“Fantasy? _ Lord of the Rings _ kinda stuff?”

“Well, fantasy does come into play, depending on your belief system.”

Dean’s brows rose as he surveyed him. “Okay, well now I’m picturing some new-agey fifty-shades type shit,” he said and Emmanuel laughed.

“I write gay erotica with supernatural and religious themes,” Emmanuel said softly, not sure what he was expecting, but the wide, beaming smile on Dean’s face wasn’t it.

“Really? That’s awesome man. Do I know your work?” Dean arched a brow at him when Emmanuel just stared. “What?”

“Oh. Nothing, it’s just not the usual response I get. When I tell other people what I do, I mean. Unless they’re trying to get in my pants, there’s usually a lot of stuttering and backing away or the occasional “_ is that fag shit _?”

“ Yeah, well, people are dicks sometimes. Out with it, what’s your pen name?”

“Anonymous,” he said, chuckling when Dean only stared. “ I write under Mr. Anonymous. I have a thing with names…” he trailed off, cringing but Dean only gave him a soft look. Emmanuel tried not to be hypnotized by the golden freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“We all have things, E.J.“ Dean replied gently, before he sat up straight, mouth falling open. “Wait. _ Mr _ . _ Anonymous _ ? _ The _ Mr. Anonymous who writes the Guardian Angel series?”

The Guardian Angel series followed the life of an angel who had fallen from heaven and the human he’d done it for. The series focuses not only the trials and tribulations of trying to teach a once immortal being how to be mortal and all that came with it, but also what happens when it inspires other angels to do now that they’ve seen a glimpse of free will. Not to mention plenty of hot sex. _ Come for the rimjobs, stay for the romance _, his editor liked to tease him.

Emmanuel felt fond affection rise in his chest at Dean’s obvious excitement. He tugged at his ear, nose scrunching as he shrugged casually, laughing at the look of awe on Dean’s face.

“Listen,” Dean said seriously, pointing at him for emphasis. “If you made Cael fall from heaven to be with Ethan only to make him cheat on him with that asshole Sebastian I-”

“Yo boss? Your break ever gonna end? Quit your flirting, it’s time to make the donuts.” They both whipped their eyes to the counter where the pretty brunette who had named him Clarence blew him a sassy kiss.

“Demon,” Dean muttered under his breath. “Don’t tell her I said that,” he warned and Emmanuel chuckled.

“Noted.”

“So, listen, E.J., I know this is going to sound crazy but I have a room for rent and it’s yours if you want it.”

Emmanuel could only goggle at Dean as he continued. 

“My brother, Sammy, used to live with me but he just moved into his own place, so if you’re interested, you can come take a look after my shift.”

Emmanuel shook his head. “Dean you’re very kind but I can’t ask you to open your home to a stranger like that.”

“We’re not strangers,” Dean said earnestly. “You're a kinky romance novelist who works out and loves bees. You’re a fan of lemon meringue pie,” he said with a nod to Emmanuel’s now empty plate, “and you enjoy cinnamon in your coffee. See? Not strangers,” Dean said and Emmanuel couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just… you look like you could use a friend, and the truth is so could I.”

Emmanuel didn’t know what to say. The rational part of him knew it was crazy to move in with someone based on a nice conversation and superior pie but there was something about Dean that was hard to resist, more than just his flawless features and engaging smile. Dean radiated warmth and comfort and something almost primal in Emmanuel was telling him he had found a kindred spirit. It was strange to see this beautiful man who exudes charm effortlessly and see someone who was perhaps, internally, as lost as he was.

Emmanuel regarded him with a tilted chin and narrowed eyes. Finally — “When does your shift end?”


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s up, bitch?” Dean cradled the phone between his neck and shoulder as he used his keys to slit through the cardboard box labeled  _ kitchen _ . He smirked when he heard his brother’s sigh of exasperation.

“What if someone else was calling you from my phone, Dean?” Sam asked and Dean rolled his eyes.

“ Like who? Aside from you and Gabriel, the only people I talk to work for me. Now, you got any reason for calling me other than to reprimand me on my phone etiquette?” Dean grinned widely as he pulled out a set of bumblebee mugs to put in the cabinet.

“Only people, huh?” Sam said. “Then why is it I heard through the grapevine that you already have a new roommate?”

Dean rolled his eyes. Less than forty-eight hours for that news to travel. “So what? I’m used to having a roommate, it’s not a cri—”

“I also heard that you know  _ nothing _ about this person, Dean!”

“Sammy —"

“That he is, in fact, a customer you _ just  _ met. Seriously, Dean? You invited a stranger to move in with you that you only met _ that day _ ?”

“Chill,  _ Kristoff _ , and quit lawyering me,” Dean replied, pulling out a large mason jar filled filled with what appeared to be a variety of teas. “Yes, I just met Jimmy, but he’s cool, I promise.”

“Jimmy? I thought Meg said his name was Clarence?”

Of course. Meg was the  _ grapevine _ . “It’s Emmanuel, actually,” Dean said, amused. “And when were you talking to Meg?”

“Don’t change the subject. So what? He just randomly changes his name?” Sam was sounding more and more irritated and Dean couldn’t help but laugh, though he was touched by his brother's concern. 

“Sometimes,” Dean replied, offering nothing else.

“I’m not really feeling better about this, Dean.”

“Sam, it’s fine, I promise. I just… I felt like it was something I needed to do. He was living across from a strip joint, Sammy,” Dean said plaintively. “And it’s not like I don’t have the room.” It was true, Dean’s apartment was quite large. He wished the kitchen were bigger but it wasn’t like he couldn’t use the one downstairs in a pinch. Plus, he had a gorgeous roof garden that more than made up for it.

Dean heard his brother sigh and could picture him scrubbing at his face with his hand as he fought to find the right words.

“It’s just that it isn’t like you. You’re not really a people person.”

“What are you talking about? I deal with Meg, don’t I? My regulars? Not to mention I’ve been running the bakery with Gabe for years which should automatically put me in the running for sainthood!” Dean leaned back against the fridge as he waited for his brother to reply.

“You’ve known Gabe for forever and being nice to your employees,  _ even Meg _ , and chit-chatting with your customers isn’t what I’m talking about. You don’t have close friends,” it was said gently and Dean took no offense, though the truth of the statement did sting a bit. “I can’t remember you ever dating anyone longer than a few weeks and you never let anyone stay the night. You don’t let anyone get near you,” a fact Dean didn’t (couldn’t) deny, “so you’ll have to forgive me for questioning where your head's at. What makes this guy so special, Dean?”

The question was something that had been plaguing Dean ever since his first encounter with the enigmatic Emmanuel James Milton aka  _ Mr. Anonymous _ . 

“I am all for you branching out and finding someone, be it a friend, partner, whatever,” Sam continued, after a long stretch of silence, “I just don’t think you inviting the first hot guy who catches your eye to move in with you is the way to go.”

“So Meg says he hot, huh? Does that bother you?” Dean teased.

“Stop deflecting, Dean,” Sam implored, and the whine in his voice grated. 

“Sammy, I’m a good judge of character.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “And the truth is …” Dean peeked down the hall, assuring himself that Jimmy was still unpacking in his room. “He, uh… he reminds me of Cas,” he said, voice cracking just a bit. Even after twenty-nine years it still hurt to say his name. 

“Dean,” Sam said, petulance replaced with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“I just kept thinking, what if this were Cas, you know? Showing up in a new town, a little lost, a lot lonely, no family? If it were Cas, I would have wanted someone to help him.” Dean cleared his throat and deliberately lightened his tone. “Besides, Meg’s right. He’s extremely hot.

“Your priorities astound me,” Sam drolled, playing along.

Dean snickered. “ It’s probably only temporary, anyway. There just wasn’t anything available long-term right now. You know what this town is like during the summer.”

“Typical port town,” Sam acknowledged. “So does he have a job? Or did you give him one of those too?” Sam asked dryly.

“He’s a writer.”

“An author? Impressive,” Sam said, which Dean knew was code for:  _ at least he won’t be mooching off of you. _

“Right? And I promise, Sammy,“ Dean raised his voice at the sound of footfalls coming softly down the hall, “he’s not a serial killer.” Dean had to force himself not to snicker as Jimmy entered the kitchen and cocked his head at him, confusion all over his handsome face. “Jimmy,” Dean said, pulling the phone from his ear and hitting speaker. “This is my brother Sam, please tell him you're not a yellow-eyed demon or anything equally creepy here to steal my soul.”

Though he looked adorably baffled, Jimmy readily complied, as he opened the door to the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of _ Downeast Cider, _ handing one to Dean. “Hello, Sam. I can assure you that I am not a yellow-eyed demon, though before coffee it is a close call.”

The deadpan response netted Dean’s new roommate a startled chuckle from Sam.

“Nice to meet you, Jimmy. I hope you’ll join us for game night on Friday?” Sam’s voice sounded smug, as though he thought he was being brilliant for engineering this chain of events and Dean rolled his eyes. Game night was something Dean graciously allowed to be held at the bakery after hours twice a month. 

“Yes, Dean already extended the invitation. I look forward to meeting you and answering any questions you have regarding my intentions towards your big brother.”

“No, he’s just really excited about seeing if your hair is as salon ready as I claim it is,” Dean teased and Jimmy huffed a soft laugh.

“That is  _ barely _ true, Sam,” Jimmy said, grinning as he leaned back against the sink. He looked so comfortable standing there, talking to Dean’s brother like he had no cares in the world. Dean felt his chest tighten at how right the picture it made and forced himself to blow out a breath. 

Sam’s bewildered snort of laughter jolted Dean back to awareness. “So we’ll see you Friday night?”

“Yeah. And leave the hummus and kale chips at home, you leaf-eating freak of nature.”

After hanging up with Sam, Dean and Jimmy enjoyed their hard cider in companionable, yet quietly-charged, silence.

“Is this weird?” Jimmy spoke up suddenly and Dean met his gaze to find the man studying Dean with a searching expression. 

They sat together at the kitchen table, sunlight pouring in through the window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. The hum of the fridge was a soft accompaniment to their quiet breathing. Dean didn’t have to wonder at Jimmy’s meaning. Strong, lean, fingers brushed a path across the back of Dean’s freckled hand. His breath caught, then a soft bubble of laughter erupted as Dean turned his hand over in an open invitation for Jimmy lace their fingers together. 

“What? How easy this seems? Yeah, buddy, it’s a little weird.” Jimmy laughed at Dean’s blunt honesty. “I don’t… ,” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck as he thought back on his conversation with Sam. “I don’t have close friends,” he said, repeating his brother’s words. “I’m friendly and I get along with most folks but I don’t…” Dean shrugged a little helplessly.

“You don’t hold hands with virtual strangers at your kitchen table,” Jimmy offered and Dean grinned at him in appreciation.

“No, I don’t. Letting people in… beyond the superficial… ,” Dean forced himself to meet Jimmy’s gaze head-on. “I don’t do that. I have reasons for that and the therapy receipts to prove it but I’m not ready to talk about that yet,” Dean said, arching a brow, almost in challenge, but Jimmy only looked at him tenderly.

“Of course, Dean. I am a patient man and to be honest, this is new to me too. My mother…, she and I did not have an easy relationship and with moving so often.” Jimmy heaved a sigh that Dean was sure held more weight the airy sound conveyed. “I’ve never had deep friendships either but I feel drawn to you, almost as though we already have some kind of… profound bond? If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand.” 

Dean felt warm all over at the sincere timbre of Jimmy’s tone and found himself smiling widely.

“A little nervous,” Dean admitted, fighting back the heat that wanted to flood his cheeks. “But not uncomfortable.”

“I’m very glad.” Jimmy’s voice was rough like sandpaper and Dean squeezed their entwined fingers tightly. Tingles of electricity coursed through him leaving him slightly breathless.

“Me too, Jimmy,” Dean agreed, more than a little enchanted when his new roommate scrunched his nose in an adorable pondering expression.

“Let’s go with Eman this week,” Jimmy decided and Dean chuckled, the man further securing himself in Dean’s affection with his guileless charm.

“You know, you’re gonna have to settle on something at some point,” Dean said teasingly.

“When it feels right.“ 


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next week, a routine was established. Emmanuel often awoke to an empty apartment. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, a fresh pot warming on the burner and a plate sat in the microwave —- a glossy, sugary cinnamon roll this time. Emmanuel found himself grinning as he poured himself a mug of coffee, dropping into a kitchen chair so he could nibble at the pastry.

A glance at the microwave clock told him it was nearly nine am. Usually, Emmanuel would do forty-five minutes of yoga followed by a fifteen-minute meditation before getting dressed for the day. Then, he and his laptop would traipse down the back stairs into the Honeybee Bakery Kitchen. Today was no exception as Emmanuel pushed through the double doors and was immediately enveloped in warmth and the sweet smell of monkey bread and raspberry turnovers.

Though the shop had only been open for an hour or two, Emmanuel knew that Dean had been there since nearly five am. The fact that _ Modest Mouse _ was playing instead of _ Led Zeppelin, _ he had learned, meant that Meg had arrived at work even earlier than Dean and commandeered control of the music selection.

Emmanuel could tell that Meg wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. She eyed him speculatively as he passed by Dean, pressing his hands to strong shoulders in a quick squeeze of hello. Dean’s hands were immersed in flour and eggs so he greeted Emmanuel with a grin. 

“Morning, sunshine!” Dean always went along with whatever name Emmanuel was trying out, but Sunshine tended to be the man’s go-to. It didn’t hurt Emmanuel’s feelings in the slightest. “There’s a fresh pot on out front.”

Emmanuel made sure to steer clear of Meg as she followed him through the doors to the front. She carried a tray filled with a variety of croissants and buns for the display case while Emmanuel helped himself to a cup of coffee, as always, adding a dash of cinnamon. Feeling Meg’s gaze on him, he tossed her a wink that had the woman narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. Emmanuel settled into his favored booth by the window. The morning rush had ended and he grabbed a napkin, clearing the table of crumbs before Meg could saunter over with a rag. 

Emmanuel had probably been working for an hour or so, lost in his world of angels and righteous men, when the clatter of a spoon hit the table, rousing his eyes from the screen of his laptop. He took in the large fruit and yogurt parfait in front of him and looked at Meg in question.

“Boss says you never eat when you get sucked into work this early and no more coffee until this is gone.”

Emmanuel felt his lips curl up in a soft smile as he looked at the pretty concoction of vanilla yogurt, fresh strawberries, blueberries and granola layered in a tall glass. He glanced over towards the kitchen doors, knowing Dean was probably on the other side singing along to the radio while he filled chocolate cupcakes full of raspberry coulis or some other such deliciousness. Emmanuel turned back, tilting his head as he observed Meg scowling down at him.

“Did I wrong you, somehow, Meg?” he asked, genuinely puzzled as to the reason why the young woman regarded him with such thinly veiled hostility.

She surprised him by sitting down across from him, much the way Dean had when they first met, only Dean didn’t stare at him with Meg’s fiery mistrust and attitude.

“Look, Clarence, I don’t know you. Maybe your the swellest guy to ever enter this shop. Maybe you knit tea cozies for the little old ladies at the senior center. _ Maybe _ you’ve got an ass that won’t quit and give amazing blow jobs that make Dean see God. All I know is that he is different around you,” Meg crossed her arms tightly and leaned back in her seat.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Emmanuel queried over a spoonful of the parfait.

Watchful brown eyes studied him. “I don’t know yet. But I do know this, you fuck with him, you fuck with me.”

Emmanuel sighed, scrubbing a hand over his jaw, noting that he needed to shave. 

“I have no intention of _fucking_ _with_ _Dean_ in any way that isn’t pleasurable for the both of us,” he took a little satisfaction in seeing Meg’s eyes widen at his boldness. 

“Dean doesn’t let people in.” It was a statement.

“I’m aware that there is a story,” Emmanuel acknowledged.

“Pretty boy’s got issues, okay? I’m talking PTSD-”

Emmanuel held up his hand to stop the torrent of Meg’s words. “I’ll hear about it from Dean when and if he decides to share with me. Until then, it’s his business and probably not something you should be advertising to others, well-intentioned or not.” He didn’t try and mask the disapproval in his tone. When Meg didn’t say anything more, Emmanuel scooped up another bite of parfait, enjoying the crunch of the granola combined with tart cherry. 

“You really don’t want to know?” Meg finally asked, suspiciously, when he polished off the last spoonful.

“Not from you,” Emmanuel stated firmly and she lifted her chin as a flash of respect winked in her pretty eyes.

“Well, then,” Meg said archly as she rose from the seat, clearing his now empty parfait glass. “I’ll bring you a carafe of coffee,” she sighed as though it was putting her out but at this point, Emmanuel could tell it was just for show.

“You know, Meg?” Emmanuel called as she started away. “Dean is lucky you’re looking out for him.”

She didn’t reply, but when he came into the bakery the next morning, Emmanuel’s favorite booth was already set up with a large mug of coffee and shaker of cinnamon next to a plate with the pastry of the day.

  
  


* * *

Over the next few weeks, he participated in his first game night. Emmanuel introduced himself as Jimmy, although at home, Dean was still having fun with Eman; mostly because of the way he liked to call it out as if Dean was announcing it over a megaphone. 

_ “And confiscating the last egg roll, it’s Eeeeee-Man!” _

_ “It’s getting kind of old, Dean.” _

_ “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to sound like a 90’s wrestler.” _

_ “Assbutt.” _

_ “I gotta say, as far as pet names go, sunshine, it’s a little lacking.” _

Or his favorite:

_ “Yo, E-Man, you off to defend Castle Grayskull today or…? Just trying to plan dinner, s’all.” _

The first gathering he’d attended had been a little bit of a revelation. Game night was composed mostly of friends of Dean’s brother. Kevin Tran not only worked for Dean part-time but he was also an intern at Sam’s firm. Then there’d been Charlie, who was a game designer and a self-proclaimed hacker and was often found wearing her bright red hair in Princess Leia buns and of course, the ever-present, Meg. Meg, Emmanuel learned, had gone to school with Dean since elementary school. She’d originally gone to school for nursing, but it was never a good fit, so she’d changed majors and gone to _ Le Cordon Bleu _. 

_ “Who knew my calling was culinary decadence and creamy filling,” _ she had told him, with a long, bawdy look at the very tall and strapping Sam Winchester. See, Emmanuel had learned all the gossip from Dean over Guitar Hero and _ Yuenglings _ the night before. Apparently, Charlie had a crush on Meg, who had the hots for Sam, who in turn had a long-suffering infatuation with the elusive Gabriel.

_ “Gabriel? Gabriel your partner, Gabriel?” _Emmanuel had asked, remembering the way Dean had looked both fond and grossed out at the same time.

_ “Gabriel’s a good guy, but he doesn’t do relationships. And he’d never fuck up our business partnership that way by encouraging Sam, only to hurt him later. Not if he wants to live. Besides, he should give Meg a chance. She’d be good for him.” _

Sam had grilled him, but kindly, and seemed to leave the bakery that night reassured that Emmanuel was not some mooching psycho who was out to poach on his brother's good nature.

Fourth of July came and went, and it was probably the most fun Emmanuel could ever remember having on the holiday. That morning Dean had a skype conversation with his mother for about three minutes before she had lost internet. They were somewhere on the Medetaranian and internet on the open sea was unreliable at best. Dean had tried to tell her about his new roommate, but never got a chance before the call cut off.

The bakery was closed and Emmanuel spent the day at the beach with Dean, his brother, and most of the Honeybee staff. Dean and Sam’s cousin Christian came along with his friend Eve, who seemed to rub Dean the wrong way. Meg and Gabriel had laughed at Dean’s behavior, Kevin finally cluing Emmanuel into the fact that Dean was not a fan of what he had somehow considered his competition. Eve’s flirting had been sweet, but nothing Emmanuel had taken seriously. Even so, he couldn’t help the swell of pride that he was able to evoke that response in Dean. Because, of course, being Dean, he was still effortlessly charming and instead of being hostile to Eve, he had just become more tactile with Emmanuel; being sure to sit next to him in the beach chairs, be his partner in a game of chicken in the cold waves of the Atlantic. Dean’s bowed thighs were firmly clenching his neck as he fought against Christian who was sat upon Sam’s sturdy frame had him grateful that his lower half was submerged in the icy water, as having Dean’s wet body covered in just a pair of board shorts against his skin was wreaking havoc with his body.

They had abandoned the idea of a bonfire on the beach, instead choosing to watch the fireworks from the roof-top garden. Any hopes of getting to act out any of his fantasies with Dean, however, were cut short when they all imbibed in copious amounts of alcohol and those that didn’t live within walking distance we’re forced to either call a cab or crash at Dean and Emmanuel’s. In the end, Sam had taken the couch, Meg had taken Emmanuel’s bed, and Emmanuel had wound up passed out on Dean’s bed, wrapped around the man like an octopus. He remembered being soothed when his human pillow had escaped his embrace, letting out a groan of displeasure at the loss of heat. He felt the cool press of lips to the side of his temple and it registered that Dean was leaving for work. Emmanuel rolled into his side of the sheets, burying his face in Dean’s vanilla and sandalwood scented pillow. When he woke a little while later, he’d been hard, and allowed himself the luxury of jerking off in Dean’s bed, surrounded by his scent and filled with obscene thoughts of the man himself. He refused to feel guilty for indulging in fantasies, though he did wash and change the sheets.

Emmanuel had felt so recharged, that he sat down to start writing and never actually left the apartment. Dean had run up to check on him and all he could offer was a grunt of acknowledgement as his characters called his attention away from anyone actually living. He seemed to work that way non-stop for the next week; so in the groove that he couldn’t find the time to complete his normal routine of coffee, yoga, then head to the bakery. No, the words wouldn’t allow it; he fell asleep thinking of writing and woke that way and Dean seemed to get that this was how Emmanuel existed when he was in the zone. Dean forced him to take breaks when they were at home, though, bringing him meals, making him eat dinner with him, even if it was just take-out and an hour of vegging out to the Food Network. He’d end up back in his room by eight, writing until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Once he'd finally broken out of his self-imposed exile, he was exhausted but pleased that his editor would be off his back for a bit. 

Now, a week later, it was game night again and Emmanuel smothered a yawn with his hand. He honestly wasn’t sure he’d make it through the whole night. It had been a busy end of July for Dean. He had three weddings, two beach themed ones to bake cakes for, plus an astronomical order of _ Tres Leches _ cupcakes for Cesar and Jesse Cuevas’ teenage daughter’s Quinceanera. They’d barely seen each other at all. Dean had been crashing early, with Kevin out on vacation this week, and he’d needed to go in early every day to help Gabriel, not coming home until dinner nearly every day and falling asleep against Emmanuel’s shoulder in front of the television most nights. 

A look in the mirror above the bathroom sink showed that Emmanuel wasn’t fairing much better. The glass beheld a tired face sporting salt and pepper stubble and dark crescents under his normally bright eyes. As invigorated as he had felt the week before, his body was still playing catch up with what the past week’s writing marathon had put him through. He’d also been plagued by dreams throughout the week. It had been a while since they’d hit so hard. 

As usual, the images were fragmented; bright and disjointed flashes from childhood. He remembered loud music, wind chimes, and sunlight. His mother used to tell him he was remembering the sound of the radio in the car, the high beams of the oncoming vehicle that had hit them, but that had never rung true to him. Emmanuel knew they were just dreams, but he clearly recalled his head jerking up and being blinded by the sun. It was the same every time.

Except for last night. Last night there had been something new. There was the usual shrieking laughter and campy music that was vaguely reminiscent of an ice cream truck and that blinding shock of sun. But, this time Emmanuel clearly remembered the press of small fingers clasped in his own. A scared, young voice screaming, _ let him go _, only to be drowned out by more shrieks and giggles.

Sticky childish fingers released, ripped away from his own small palms and Emmanuel had woken with a gasp of a lost name on his lips.

He’d thanked God he hadn’t been screaming. How embarrassing that would have been. Yes, Dean and he shared, _ something _, but he didn’t want the first time Dean ran to his bed to be because of a childhood nightmare.

Emmanuel flicked the light switch off as he descended the back staircase to the bakery kitchen. He had pilfered clothes from Dean, a _ Kansas _ tee-shirt that still smelled of vanilla and sandalwood, a pair of jeans that hung loosely off his hips, and a pair of sandals he picked up at the Dollar Tree. He smiled to himself when he thought of how Dean had almost whined the first time he’d seen Emmanuel wear them, complaining that it was a ridiculous thing that Emmanuel somehow made feet sexy. He needed to do laundry, or raid his storage unit for more of his own clothing. If he was honest with himself, he was avoiding a few things in there; namely, a box filled with who the hell knows what of his mother’s, that had been left specifically to him.

He didn’t think he was ready for that yet.

Emmanuel pushed through the kitchen doors, past the immaculately cleaned counter space and out into the main dining area. He hemmed and hawed over whether or not to push through his exhaustion in order to spend time with Dean or if he should just give up and go to bed. In the long run, the decision was made for him when he noticed someone he didn’t recognize laughing at a table. The man’s round face held a pair of kind blue-eyes under a ball cap. He was tall, solid; a bit of a bear, actually, Emmanuel couldn’t help but think. The stranger wore a charming smile and stared at Dean as though he were a starving man at a buffet.

Emmanuel decided he wasn’t that tired after all.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a trip, seeing Benny again. Twenty years was a long time. They’d been high school seniors, seventeen and fresh-faced the last time they’d been in each other’s presence. Dean hadn’t realized that Benny and Meg had kept in touch over the years. She’d been a year behind them in school and was responsible for this surprise reunion. Dean leaned back against the counter, arms folded, as he listened to his old friend talk about his travels over the years.

Benny Lefitte, born in Louisianna and raised all the fuck over as an army brat, was a food blogger and critic. It was something he used to talk to Dean about in culinary class during his short stint senior year of high school in Salt Meadow Port. How he wanted to travel the world and experience new cuisine and eventually open his own restaurant.

Now that dream was becoming a reality. Benny was opening his own Creole-inspired restaurant right on the waterfront.

“I knew I wanted to do it, an’ here s’only place I ever really made connections. I mean, I did try and steal Dean from y’all, but boy wouldn’t budge,” Benny’s words earned him soft chuckles and a snort from Kevin.

“Dean leave Salt Meadow Harbor? No way. I’ve worked for you what? Five years now? I don’t think you’ve ever taken a vacation in all that time,” Kevin’s tone was teasing but it still had a ball of tension building in his belly. Dean was grateful when Sammy jumped in to tell his friend to quit jabbering and help set up the game board; Risk was a pain in the ass.

Dean’s eyes darted around the room only to find Jimmy’s deep blue gaze locked on him and Dean wondered how long he had been under the observant man’s scrutiny.

“Dean, you playing?” Charlie asked, voice bright and unable to not draw a smile from him. She was a sweet kid. Yes, she may have been an adult but Dean reckoned anyone nearly a decade younger than himself was considered a baby in his book.

“No thanks, Red. I will, however, make you all some mint chocolate chip cupcakes and brew some coffee,” Dean said, noting how Jimmy’s eyes lightened up. The man had a definite sweet tooth, though nothing rivaled his love for coffee. He always smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and mint toothpaste. As a result, soft, morning Jimmy, made Dean weak in the knees. Though, he thought as he glanced over at Jimmy, he did that pretty much any time of the day. 

Dean couldn’t help but notice how tired his roommate looked, however. Still sexy as usual, especially in Dean’s clothes, which gave him some kind of alpha male possessive thrill. Not PC he knew, so sue him for thinking the current star of his fantasies looked hot in his jeans; but, there was definite strain around Jimmy’s stormy ocean eyes and the scruff on his face was longer than he’d ever seen it in the short month they’d lived together. Not that Dean was complaining about the rugged rock star look the author was sporting. He just didn’t like the idea that something was eating at the man, and the truth was, Dean had a feeling that whatever was bothering Jimmy went deeper than just a rough night of sleep.

Dean could relate.

Teams were formed: Charlie with Kevin, Meg with Sam, leaving Benny with Jimmy. Trusting his brother not to interrogate Jimmy too badly now that they’ve hung out a few times, Dean went back into his domain and cranked up his sound system. _ Louden Swain _blared from hidden speakers as Dean gathered what he needed. He lost himself as he sifted his dry ingredients together, enjoying the rich, bitter scent of the unsweetened cocoa, before drowning out the sound of his music by creaming his eggs, vanilla, and sugar with the hand mixer.

He made enough batter for two batches, bobbing his head as he sang along to _ Bad Liar _ , inwardly cursing Meg and her fucking pop-rock that was absolutely _ not _ catchy. Dean spun in a circle as he danced his way over to the caddy housing his cupcake ladle.

Dean loved baking and how it involved the senses. He loved turning simple, boring ingredients into something beautiful; the way the taste, the burst of flavor on your tongue could make a memory come alive, or the smell of baking cookies could transport you to someplace innocent. For Dean, his baking memories were filled with Cas. Making mini pies for Becky Rosen-Novak’s church bake sales. Dean’s grandfather Henry teaching them how to make fudgy grasshopper squares to sell so they could earn enough money for that Butterfly Farm, since his mom Mary and Becky both gave a resounding NO when it came to keeping bees.

“Looks like you got a nice memory floatin’ up there, brother,” Dean’s head jerked up, smiling when he saw Benny leaning against the doorjamb.

“What can I say? It’s my zen, man.”

“I see you kept the name,” Benny observed and Dean shrugged. “I remember you saying how you’d wanted something clever like _ Wake & Bakery _ or _ Sugar Daddy’s.” _

Dean laughed heartily at that as he filled the cupcake trays. “Yeah, my mother would have loved that,” Dean slid the cupcakes into the oven and set the timer. “ ‘Sides, it was always gonna be the Honeybee Bakery. It’s what he wanted,” he said simply and Benny nodded.

“I had wondered, over the years, if you’d regret your decision not to come with me,” Benny asked softly and Dean paused in the act of gathering his whipped cream frosting ingredients.

“Someday, he’ll be back. And this place,” Dean gestured around his kitchen, “this place is gonna welcome him home.”

“Dean, I don’t know whether to applaud your faith or to tell you to move on,” Benny said, and though he was teasing there was a hint of truth behind his words.

“You and my therapist both,” Dean volleyed back before changing the subject. “How goes the game?”

Benny snorted out a laugh. “What game? Jimmy annihilated everyone. Thank God I was on his team. You’d think this guy had commanded armies or something.”

Dean found himself feeling proud that his friend had not only held his own but kicked some ass. “Yeah, he’s something alright.”

Benny’s brow kicked up in surprise. “It’s like that, is it, brother? So I suppose asking you to dinner is a waste of time?”

Dean cocked his head at his friend, sad to be the one causing the look of disappointment on his handsome face. After Cas, Benny had come the closest to a best friend he’d had and Dean was adjusted well enough to know now that he had only allowed that closeness because he knew their time was temporary. Benny had always been bound for bigger and Dean never had any intention of world travels and young romance. Not when he needed to be here. Just in case.

And now that Benny was here to stay? Romance still wasn’t in the cards. Benny was a catch but he didn’t make Dean’s heart trip. He didn’t make Dean long for things he’d never thought he could have. Not the way Jimmy was starting to.

“I’m happy to get dinner with you, Benny,” Dean said gently. “As a friend.”

Benny inclined his head. “I’ll take it,” he said magnanimously before tugging Dean in for a warm hug. Dean returned the embrace, happy there were no hard feelings. 

Dean heard the kitchen doors opening and a soft intake a breath. Dean raised his face and met Jimmy’s gaze head-on. His face was a stoic mask, as he looked nowhere but into Dean’s eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt. Sam wanted to know if you two were up for some hold’em.” Dean registered Benny pulling away and patting his shoulder. 

“See you out there,” the man muttered, to either Dean, Jimmy or both, quickly exiting the highly charged room.

Dean cleared his throat, not liking this heaviness that had settled so suddenly between them. He hadn’t done anything wrong by hugging Benny, so why did he feel like he’d somehow betrayed Jimmy? Shaking it off Dean walked over to the oven, pulling the door open right before the timer sounded.

“I just gotta frost these and I’ll be out there.”

Jimmy nodded, a little jerkily, and turned towards the doors.

“Jimmy? Are you okay?” Dean couldn’t help asking, the words literally slipping out without thought.

Something flashed in Jimmy’s eyes, tenderness, warmth, before the blinds came down again. “I just need some air. See you out there.”

He followed the line of Jimmy’s back as he walked out of the kitchen; the strong runner's calves that even Dean’s loose jeans couldn’t hide. He groaned, biting his lip as the thought of those strong limbs wrapped around his waist, or better yet the hips he’d been fantasizing about for weeks, thrusting as he fucked Dean into his memory foam. 

Jimmy made him feel things he hadn’t allowed himself in… ever. It was more than just how sexy he was; all male, and scruff, and strength. That was part of it. He’d gone through more lube in the past month than he had in the prior nine and he couldn’t even apologize for it; the man was a walking orgasm. If Dean wasn’t such a fan of his work, he would think the man was clueless to his physical appeal, except there was no way someone wrote sex like that and had no understanding of the heat and attraction between the two of them.

But it was more than that, too, Dean thought as he carefully stuck the cupcake trays in the blast chiller to cool. It was more than a hard tumble that Jimmy made him yearn for. 

Cuddling, movie nights, quiet talks about the future. Love; unconditional, true, and eternal.

Dean had been putting his personal life on hold for years. He knew it worried his parents;John, his father was always encouraging him to meet someone and his mother was constantly trying to set him up with nurses from the hospital. Even Cas’ mom and dad, who still lived next door to the Winchesters, had tried their hands at matchmaking, but to no avail. He wasn’t looking for a relationship beyond a decent lay and a few laughs. To begin that deeper, meaningful chapter of his life that included love and a partner, and maybe even a family of his own making; it always felt wrong. As if him living his life to the fullest, he was giving up on Cas when he should be right there beside him. 

But, _ Emmanuel James Milton _. God, there was something about him that made Dean want to start living. Jimmy, with his quick wit and unique spirit, wide, lazy smile, and kind ocean eyes.

Doing this, starting something with Jimmy that could be lasting, was scary and a big part of him felt guilty for considering moving on without Cas as if it meant he had given up hope on his return. It was an illogical, self-imposed recrimination, one that he had been over many times with his therapist. Every time the subject of serious relationships came up. Only now, Dean couldn’t help wondering if he _ could _ let himself fall in love with Jimmy. Could he allow himself to have this breathtaking man who actually made Dean _ feel _ and still leave a light on for Cas to come home, to?

Dean frosted the cupcakes, thoughtfully, adding a thin mint candy on the top as an edible decoration. Dean carried the thought through to the front and placed the tray on the counter. Charlie squealed appreciatively, swiping the first one and licking a long strip through the tinted green frosting.

“Mmm, s’good,” she mumbled over a bite and Meg rolled her eyes handing over a napkin.

Dean looked around, noting Sam and Benny chatting casually while his brother shuffled the cards.

“Jimmy went outside to get some air, Captain Subtlety,” Kevin said cheekily as he took his own cupcake. Instead of retorting, Dean just rolled his eyes. He grabbed two of his own cupcakes and went back into the kitchen, pulling a small pastry box off of the shelf to place his treats in.

Dean climbed the back staircase up past his apartment and right on up onto the roof garden. He found Jimmy, reclined back under the stars on one of the large chaises Dean had set up there, eyes closed. Jimmy breathed so evenly one would think he was sleeping. Dean placed the pastry box on the little glass patio table in between the chairs, sitting down on the vacant one. The air was warm with a light breeze that carried with it the fragrant scent of strawberries and mint from the boxes.

The moonlight cut a path across the roof, bathing Jimmy in its glow and fuck if he didn’t look made for it. Dean found himself snapping a picture on his phone, the sound of the shutter causing Jimmy’s eyes to blink open. He regarded him from his relaxed position. Dean grabbed the pastry box and popped open the top. He held it out to Jimmy, grinning when he sighed and sat up.

Long, tan fingers reached into the box and pulled out a cupcake. Jimmy immediately plucked the candy out of the frosting and bit into it with a pleased hum. Dean was pretty sure his eyes glazed over when he swiped a finger through the frosting and sucked his digit clean, so much so that it took a moment for Dean to realize that Jimmy was actually speaking to him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sounds from below filtered in, chit-chat from tourists on the boardwalk, nightlife beginning to stir, and Dean was caught in eyes of wild blue.

“I said, is Benny the one who got away?” The question seemed reluctantly gritted out, all sandpaper and gravel and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No,“ Dean said, voice still infused with humor. “Definitely not.”

“Oh. It just seemed like you…”

“Not really. We hung out a lot, senior year. Kissed a few times, nothing major. I knew he was taking off after graduation and I was going to school to get my business degree. I’d been dreaming of opening this bakery since I was a kid. No sweet, hormone-charged invitation was gonna steer me off of that path.”

Faint fireworks boomed from far off. It was never too late in the season for a fireworks display in Salt Meadow Harbor. They were guaranteed to last well into the end of August in a seaside town like this and Dean loved it.

“Was that all there was to it?” Jimmy asked, licking chocolate from his thumb, lips kicking up in a half smile as he noticed Dean’s eyes following the movement.

“What do you mean?” Dean narrowed his eyes wondering what exactly made Jimmy feel the need to ask.

“I just mean I heard Kevin when he was teasing you about never leaving town and was wondering what that was all about?” Jimmy’s voice was even but his bright eyes were drowning in curiosity and Dean knew that if things were ever going to progress beyond innocent flirting and longing looks, that he would have to open up.

“I guess it’s time I tell you about Castiel.”


	5. Chapter 5

“ I guess It’s time I tell you about Castiel.” Dean’s voice was gruff as they sat under the stars. 

“Castiel?” the name stirred something inside of Emmanuel, something that made his chest tighten and he didn’t know why. “Was he your partner?”

Dean chuckled, but it was laced with sadness. “Partner in crime, anyway. Not the way you’re thinking. He was my best friend.”

“Did he... did he pass away?”

Dean huffed out a laugh, but the sound was bitter and Emmanuel’s heart ached at hearing Dean sound so haunted.

“Not exactly, though sometimes I wonder if that might have been easier.“ Dean sighed, throwing his cupcake wrapper into the empty pastry box. He picked Emmanuel’s from his fingers, brushing away chocolate crumbs from the tips. Dean tentatively slid his fingers down Emmanuel’s palm, his eyes asking without words if the touch was welcome. He could only smile encouragingly and clasp their hands together.

“It’s okay, Dean. Tell me about your Castiel.” Emmanuel’s heart seemed to flutter as the name spilled from his mouth. 

Dean breathed deeply, ignoring the sheen of tears that sprang into his eyes. Emmanuel gently rubbed Dean’s freckled knuckles with his thumb and he began to speak.

** _September 15th, 1990_ **

“Your brother is _ so slow,” _ Castiel whined, head thumping back against the wall of the hallway.

Dean scrubbed his hand over his nose, his own head thudding back in solidarity. 

“Hurry up and finish pooping, Sammy, we wanna go!”

“Dean Winchester, stop yelling at your brother, it’s not going to make him go any faster,” Dean’s mother, Mary, chided. “Now go get in the car, Cas, you’re riding with us since Gabriel brought a friend.”

Gabriel was Cas’ thirteen-year-old cousin. He was pretty cool. Gabriel loved to prank people but he always had candy and he never left Dean and Cas out of his games or treated them like babies, even though they were five years younger. Gabriel had to come live with Cas’ family when he was six, after a car accident killed his parents. New England winters could be brutal and as Dean often heard his dad say, black ice was a bitch.

Dean and Castiel climbed into the back of Mr. Winchester’s Impala and waited for Dean’s parents to come out of the house with Sam and put him in his booster seat. Next door in Cas’ driveway, Dean’s father John was _ shootin’ the shit’ _(another of his dad’s favorite expressions) with Cas’ dad Chuck while Cas’ mom Becky and Gabriel’s friend, Rowena Macleod, tossed sweatshirts in the trunk of their sedan. Summer had ended and come evening they would be appreciated.

“Hey, do you think it’s funny that Gabe brought that girl with us?” Castiel asked after they’d buckled up, nose wrinkling up at the thought, and Dean snorted.

“Naw, I saw them kissing behind your shed yesterday.” Dean leaned in close to Cas. “I heard him call her Ro-ro,” he said before erupting into a fit of giggles. They both pressed their faces to the glass as they watched Gabriel grab Rowena’s hand and grin up at her.

“He looks like such a doofus,” Dean snickered and Cas just opened his mouth wide and blew on the glass. Cackling madly he wrote _ G + R _on the window with his pointer and Dean banged on it loudly to get the older boy’s attention before the image faded back into the glass. When Gabriel whirled around at the noise he blushed madly before giving Dean and Castiel the finger.

The car door squeaked when it opened, causing both boys to yelp as Dean’s mom appeared, sliding four-year-old Sam into his booster seat. A few more minutes of conversation between the parents, during which Dean and Castiel kept up an obnoxious litany of _ let’s go, let’s go, let’s go _, and they were on their way.

“We’re going to the carnival, guys,” Sam said, as though he were revealing a massive secret.

“I know, buddy!” Dean replied excitedly, making his brother’s cheeks dimple in happiness. Sam may have been a bathroom hog but Dean loved his little brother anyway. “We go to the carnival every year for Cas’ birthday. Don’tcha remember?”

“He was only three last time, Dean,” Cas reminded him.

Castiel’s actual birthday was on the eighteenth but since he and Dean had school on Tuesday they’d decided to celebrate on the weekend before. Cas was four months older than Dean and had been his best friend his whole life. Dean’s mom and Castiel’s mom were best friends. Aunt Becky was even in Dean’s mom and dad’s wedding pictures in a really bright orange dress. Ever since they were old enough to ride the rides, Cas always chose the fall Carnival for his birthday celebration. It wasn’t like regular carnivals either, which was why Dean liked it so much; there was jousting, and turkey legs, and people dressed up in costume. There weren’t many rides but there was this one that they loved. It was a huge wooden pirate ship that swung up and down in the air and this was the first year they’d be allowed to ride it without a grown-up.

“It’s actually a rent-a-sauce fair,” Castiel said knowingly and Dean’s dad chuckled from the front seat, a rolling rumble of sound.

“That’s renaissance fair, sweetie,” Dean’s mom corrected. Dean didn’t care. They got to drink juice out of fake goblets and watch a Spartan versus a Trojan in a mud battle. He wasn’t sure what the difference was, they were both warriors, but so long as one of them fell in the puddle, Dean and Castiel were happy spectators.

The afternoon was full of food, cheering, and running around. Dean lost track of the times either he or Castiel’s parents had to yell at them to slow down. Sammy took a digger over a tree root and Castiel’s dad Chuck had to use his tankard of ale from _ Ye Olde Tavern _ until his mom could get ice. After a lunch of _ steak on a stake _ and _ shire fries _, Mary produced a plastic container from within her large canvas bag; Castiel’s favorite double chocolate cake with banana cream filling. It had been hidden underneath sweatshirts, wet wipes, band-aids and extra clothes, standard supplies when outings with children were involved.

“Dean made this cake for you himself, Castiel,” Becky said, ruffling her son’s hair gently. 

Castiel grinned at Dean over the wooden table they crowded around the picnic area of the fair. “Thank you, Dean,” he said before swallowing an unhealthily large bite of frosting. “S’good.”

Dean snorted when Castiel showed him his frosting covered teeth. “Of course it is. I’ve been practicing. Can’t have a bakery if at least one of us can’t bake good.”

Castiel only hummed and devoured another mouthful. He and Dean had it all worked out. When they were old enough, they would open a bakery and make desserts that they could eat whenever they wanted and they would call it Honeybee Bakery after the bees Castiel was going to keep and they would use the honey they made in their recipes. Dean was happy to let Castiel deal with the bees; as far as he was concerned, anything that could sting you with its butt wasn’t something he wanted to play with. But, Cas, he was all about nature; sometimes to his parent’s dismay like last year when his ant farm got knocked over. Dean had held Cas as he cried angry tears, devastated that Chuck had panicked and vacuumed the whole mess up. Dean had wound up using his allowance to buy his friend a butterfly farm that thankfully escaped any tragedies.

It had been agreed that Castiel would open his presents on his actual birthday, and the boys were eager to head over to the pirate ship ride. 

“Can’t we just digest for a second?” Chuck asked with a laugh, hand on his stomach. Chuck Novak, Dean could tell you, liked double chocolate banana cake almost as much as Cas.

“Rowena and I will take them, Uncle Chuck,” Gabriel volunteered. “ We’ll watch them till you guys get there.”

Dean and Cas grinned widely. He was pretty sure Gabriel just wanted privacy to play kissy-face with Ro-ro some more, but if it got him and Cas on the ride sooner, then Dean would hold back his teasing.

As they made their way across the fairgrounds, Rowena pulled Gabriel to a stop in front of a little hut selling souvenirs. Dean and Cas groaned impatiently as the girl held up earrings and necklaces to herself. She kept asking Gabe’s opinion as if he cared, and it was taking _ for-ev-er _.

“He’s not even looking, let’s go,” Castiel whispered in his ear and Dean looked at him in surprise. 

“You want to break the rules?” Dean whispered back and Castiel just shrugged.

“It’s kind of my birthday, they won’t get that mad,” Castiel replied and Dean shrugged when he couldn’t find any fault with that logic. 

They waited until Gabriel was clasping yet another chain around Rowena’s neck before they took off, holding hands and laughing wildly at their daring escape.

Dean and Castiel whooped as luck appeared to be on their side. They raced to the front of the line, a lull in ride goers due to the afternoon jousting match that was underway. 

They slid into the back row of the ship and Dean’s stomach jumped in excitement as the vessel began to gently swing. When the ride was in full motion, rising high in the air, Dean and Castiel could see the whole north side of the grounds, to the entrance, and out into the parking lot.

The ride was over quicker than they thought. Cas wanted to stay on for one more turn but Dean figured they’d pushed their luck far enough. When they stepped off of the ride, Cas took Dean’s hand and began to pull him towards the crowd by the jousting pit.

Dean laughed and resisted. “They’re gonna be pissed,” he said, referring to their folks. Dean went to tug Cas back in the direction of the ship, figuring that waiting there was their best bet.

It was a blink. Castiel was holding Dean’s hand, fingers still sticky from birthday cake, bright blue eyes lit with laughter, and the next, he was gone; wrenched from Dean’s grasp, screaming his name.

Dean tried to keep up through the crowd, screaming Castiel’s name until strong arms wrapped around him from behind, the voice of his father whispering in his ears, trying to calm him enough to find out what happened.

** _Present_ **

“I didn’t speak for a long time after that day. Hours with the police trying to give a half-assed description of a redhead wearing sunglasses and a yellow dress and Castiel screaming my name over and over until he was lost in the crowd.” The summer breeze teased Dean’s hair as he looked up, not meeting Emmanuel’s gaze. “Hours trying to give a minute by minute description about where we’d gone, who we’d spoken to, until my voice was so raw it hurt to whisper. Then I just stopped talking altogether,” Dean said softly, tipping his head back to peer at the stars.

A random firework burst from somewhere nearby and the sound seemed to jolt Dean back from his musings, but Emmanuel was patient. His heart bled for the scared little boy Dean must have been to witness his best friend taken from him like that. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how that had fucked with his psyche.

“Our bedrooms faced each other, you know? We used to sneak in and out of each other's rooms at night. The first time it happened we got in trouble, but by the dozenth or so time, our families began leaving the outside lights on. Sometimes Becky would wake up to an extra body for breakfast, sometimes it was my mom’s turn.”

“It sounds like you both had very lenient parents. My mother would barely let me out of the house until I was eighteen and the choice was taken away from her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we were pretty lucky. That first month after he was gone I snuck into Castiel’s bedroom every night. It was like, like I thought if I could just wake up in his room, then it would all be a dream and he’d be there next to me,” Dean sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he gathered his emotions. Emmanuel kept his hand locked in Dean’s, but rose from his chaise to join Dean on his, carefully easing down next to him. 

“Becky would always hear me and come lay down with me. At first, I thought she would be mad at me, you know? Like, I shoulda kept better watch of him. But she wasn’t.”

“Of course she wasn’t. You were just a child, Dean,” Emmanuel chided gently and Dean nodded.

“I know that, in here,” Dean acknowledged, pointing to his temple,” But here?” his fingers splayed over his heart, “Here it feels like I failed. Like I should have been able to save him.”

Emmanuel feathered his fingers through Dean’s hair, then gently trailed down his cheekbone and lingered on his scruff. “You cannot save everyone, my friend.”

“You sound like Pam, my therapist,” Dean clarified when Emmanuel cocked his head in question. “ She says that to me a lot.”

“Have you been seeing her for a long time?” Emmanuel asked, scooching closer until they were thigh to thigh, sensing that Dean might need the grounding contact.

“Only the last few years. My folks worry about me, about the fact that I don’t have friends.“ Dean shook his head and sighed. “About the fact that I have never been away from this town overnight in roughly twenty-nine years,” Dean’s voice held shame and Emmanuel looked at him sharply. 

“I’m not judging you Dean.”

“When I was a kid, I never wanted to go anywhere far in case Castiel came back and I missed him. I _ needed _ to be here. The older I got, the harder it became to leave for even just two-hour drives before the anxiety would kick in. _ What if he comes back and I’m not here? What if he thinks I gave up on him? _ That shit was on auto-repeat in my head for years. I know it’s not true, but PTSD don’t give a fuck about logic.”

“You’re right” Emmanuel leaned his head against Dean’s shoulder and felt the answering press of a kiss to his hair. “How is his family now?”

“Good as can be. They’re on this summer couples cruise with my parents right now,” Dean shrugged with a small smile. “Honestly, they’re surviving. It’s not something they’ll ever get over. They still live next door to mom and dad. Dad makes sure Chuck gets out in the fresh air. They fish together a lot. Off the pier and sometimes up in New Hampshire. Keeps’m from staying locked up in his study. Becky is still the High School nurse at Salt Meadow High School. She keeps herself very busy. She’s the faculty advisor of the GSA, she runs most of the school’s fundraisers and she is the admin to a website devoted to your Guardian Angel series,” Dean said, fondness in his tone.

“You’re kidding?” Emmanuel scoffed, sliding his gaze up to Dean’s, to see if he was joking.

“Dead serious. She writes some decent fanfiction too. Hobbies keep her busy. She goes to the shooting range with my mom.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. And wine tastings, thankfully not on the same day,” Dean said, with humor. 

“She sounds like a strong woman. It’s nice that she has your mother as well.”

“Becky’s like another mom to me. We try and help each other. I don’t know, it’s like we don’t have to hide our grief from each other the way we do with everyone else. I don’t mean that to sound like we’re the only ones who care, because it’s not true, it’s just…”

“Everyone deals with loss in their own way,” Emmanuel finished knowingly, and Dean nodded.

“Every year on his birthday, we go to the fair. We ride the ship and hope that miracle of miracles, he’ll just appear,” Dean gave a self-deprecating laugh, thumbing away a tear and Emmanuel wondered if he was even aware he’d shed it. “It’s stupid, I guess. To have hope that he’s out there, somewhere?”

Dean’s tone was so vulnerable, Emmanuel couldn’t help but to press a kiss to his temple. “Of course not, Dean. God, I hope he’s out there, if only to bring you peace.”

“Thanks, sunshine,” Dean smiled softly at him.

“May I ask, you said you didn’t speak for a long time. What was it that made you start talking again?”

At this, Dean’s eyes brightened. “It was Gabriel, actually. A few months or so after it happened, I was laying in Castiel’s bed, holding this bumblebee plushie he’d won out of some crane game machine at _ Friendly’s _.” Dean’s laugh was bittersweet and Emmanuel wondered if it was the same stuffed bee that sat in the behind the register of the bakery.

“He sat on the bed and I remember I didn’t look at him. I was just staring at some stupid poster of Where’s Waldo. I remember he said _ Deano? You gotta get up, kid. _I didn’t wanna get up.” Dean pulled a face that Emmanuel was learning was Dean’s go-to stubborn expression. “He asked me how I was supposed to open a bakery if I never talked to anyone?”

“And what did you do?” Emmanuel asked, envisioning a young Dean with sad, stubborn eyes clutching a comfort toy.

“I just stared him down, as menacing as a nearly nine-year-old could and told him there would be no bakery without Castiel. Gabriel just looked at me, all cocky, and said; _listen, buddy, it might not be now, or a year from now, but someday, he’s gonna be back. Don’t you want him to know where to go? I’ll even be your partner ‘til he comes home. _I was trying to figure out if he was joking around, but his face seemed so sincere. So, I asked if he promised, and I’ll never forget, he started crying. I didn’t know why at the time but I know now that it was relief that I’d finally spoken. Gabe felt guilty enough for losing us on his watch but having me all fucked up too was really hard for him.”

“He kept his promise though,” Emmanuel observed and Dean chuckled softly.

“He really did. Pam says he’s an enabler for me not moving on because he still talks about his cousin like he’ll be home anytime, but, I don’t see what’s wrong with hoping if it’s what gets him through, you know?“

“I’m sure that if Castiel ever comes back here, this will be one of the first places he goes.” Emmanuel shrugged his shoulders. “It was the first place I went, anyway. It’s immediately welcoming. And I don’t just mean for the incredibly attractive owner,” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

Dean chuckled, a light blush winging up his cheeks, visible in the bright moonlight and street lamps along the boardwalk below.

“Thanks, man.” They’d angled even more towards one another, close enough that Dean’s breath ghosted his cheek.

“Dean, may I kiss you?” he couldn’t help but ask, those beautiful lips, so close to his own, the needy look in Dean’s eyes. Dean was nodding before he was speaking and Emmanuel confidently leaned in and licked the yes right out of his mouth.

Dean tasted like chocolate and mint and it was heady. One of Emmanuel’s hands snaked around Dean’s waist, thumb anchored by a belt loop, while his other hand fisted in Dean’s hair, holding him in place. Emmanuel’s exploration of Dean’s mouth was languid; tongue rolling lazily, with lips gently bitten and sucked to a glistening plumpness. Dean responded so eagerly, little sounds of pleasure escaping as he hummed into the kiss. Dean’s palm kneaded at the small of Emmanuel’s back as the other dug into the meat of his thigh. It was hot, and heavy, and delicious, and he didn’t want it to end. Eventually, the need to breathe became apparent and they drew back, forehead to forehead, soft gasps of air mingling between them.

“You sure you wanna take this on,” Dean said, gesturing to himself. “I’m a little fucked up.”

Emmanuel searched Dean’s eyes, hoping to convey understanding with his own. “We’re all a little fucked up sometimes, aren’t we?”

Dean responded with another desperate kiss only to be rudely interrupted by pounding footsteps on the stairs. Meg burst through the door, and taking in their disheveled appearance; finger-raked hair and kiss-bitten mouths, smiled at them lasciviously.

“Well, what do we have we here, boys? Stargazing? Seeing galaxies in each other's eyes and all that?” Meg leaned against the door jam, eyes twinkling wickedly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Meg?” he asked impatiently, though it lacked any real heat.

“We’re all headed out if you want to say goodbye, what with you being the host and all,” she said sarcastically.

“She has a point,” Emmanuel pointed out, earning him a quick nod of approval.

“Thanks, Clarence.”

Dean sighed, wincing as his knees popped when he rose from the chair and Emmanuel felt his pain, echoing the motion with a small laugh. 

Though no one made a big deal out of Dean saying his goodbyes with their hands laced together, Emmanuel couldn’t help but feel like something monumental was coming, and his burgeoning relationship with Dean was at the heart of it.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of a plate clattering down in front of him roused Emmanuel from his laptop screen. He lifted his eyes to find Dean’s handsome face staring back.

“Take a break and eat something, sunshine,” Dean said brightly and Emmanuel felt warmth bloom all over. Growing up as independent as he had, and with such a distant mother, Emmanuel found himself strangely drawn to Dean’s need to nurture. What was odd, was that he found it as arousing as he did endearing, the effort Dean put into making sure he was taken care of. It made him feel special in a way he never had before.

This morning it was a blueberry danish and he wasn’t even ashamed when his first bite elicited a moan. Emmanuel smirked when Dean’s eyes dilated at the sound.

“Don’t start that. I’m still recovering from this morning.”

Emmanuel bit back a grin and plastered on an innocent expression. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice a deep rumble as he hid his smile behind his coffee cup.

_ “Ha,  _ right,” he scoffed, “because that amazingly bendy yoga routine this morning wasn’t just for me?”

“I’ll have you know that yoga does wonders for your mentality and spiritually, as well as your body, Dean,” Emmanuel attempted a lofty tone, but Dean only snorted as he wiped down the counter. 

“Just think it’s funny that in the two months you’ve been living with me you’ve never once been up at the asscrack of dawn when I’m headed down for work.“

“Let's just say, after the night's events, I found it very hard to get to sleep, which was shocking considering how tired I’d been,” Emmanuel said before eyeing Dean speculatively as he took a sip from his coffee. “I even jerked off, since that filthy kiss we shared gave me a persistent hard-on. But, even after I came with your name on my lips, I couldn’t settle down, so yoga it was. I slept for two hours after you left.” Emmanuel took a large bite of his danish as Dean just gaped at him, moss green eyes wide and dark as his breath stuttered out, obviously affected by Emmanuel's deadpan description. Emmanuel smothered a laugh as Dean’s eyes darted about the bakery, making sure no one had been listening to their conversation.

“Oh, I see. The filter is gone now?” Dean asked, breathlessly and Emmanuel peered at him, head tilted like an inquisitive bird as though having no idea what prompted Dean’s charming blush.

“I am very honest and extremely direct. Some would say I lack tact. But I want you and after last night, I know for sure that you want me too. So, I’m not going to censor myself or play hard to get with you, Dean. This isn’t a game to me and I think we’re on the same page with that. If we are choosing to pursue this,” Emmanuel gestured between them, “I’m going to be myself around you, even when it includes how I jack off to thoughts of your tongue.” Emmanuel barked out a dark laugh when Dean’s hand slipped on the napkin dispenser he was refilling, fumbling it in his fingers and scowling at Emmanuel adorably. He inched forward and leaned across the counter into Dean’s space.

“Are you going to tell me you weren’t tempted to touch yourself last night?” He raised a dark brow in challenge and Dean had the audacity to blush again, like the virgin he certainly wasn’t. “ _ Oh-oh _ . I think someone was more than tempted. Tell me, Dean, did you come thinking of me, too?”

“Holy shit, we are not having this conversation here,” Dean whispered harshly, cheeks flushed and Emmanuel only laughed harder.

“So, Dean, since we’re ‘dating now,’ “Emmanuel leaned back again and used finger quotes, noting how Dean’s gaze turned immediately from flustered to fond. ”you want to buy me dinner?”

Dean graced him with a heart-stopping smile and resounding, “Absolutely!“

Emmanuel continued to work after Dean went back into the kitchen. He didn’t know if it was how comfortable he was feeling, how settled, despite only being here for such a short time but his writing was flowing easily. He could see the direction clearly and the immediate need to not forget any details had Emmanuel working straight through morning, finishing only twenty minutes before the end of Dean’s shift. He winced as he looked up from the screen and flexed his stiff fingers.

“Finally coming up for air?” Meg smirked at him, as she rang up an order of lemon-frosted cupcakes for Jo Harvelle. Jo was an art student at the local college and some distant cousin of Dean’s, he’d learned over the weeks. She always picked up some sort of sweet concoction for her Saturday night study group. 

Emmanuel rolled his neck and took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the cool, bitter taste, wondering how long it had been sitting there. Meg snickered at him before pouring him a fresh cup and throwing a few creamers on the counter. He stirred in the cinnamon and sugar, merely humming when Meg suggested he switch to an herbal tea before there was more caffeine in his veins than blood.

Dean pushed through the doors leading from the kitchen and his face lit up when his gaze settled on Emmanuel at the counter. Meg rolled her eyes behind the register but there was a hint of a smile on her pretty face.

“So, I’m about to head upstairs and hit the shower. I gotta swing by my mom and Becky’s to pick up the mail. Figure you can get ready while I’m gone and I’ll meet you back here at five?” Dean’s face was a mixture of nervous excitement and Emmanuel found himself grinning widely over his coffee cup. He was about to suggest just running to his mother’s together when Meg suddenly burst out laughing.

“Uh-oh, Winchester. Guess it’s that time of year again,” she said with a nod towards the window. Emmanuel sipped again as he observed. Standing outside the bakery on the crowded boardwalk was a winsome brunette with a gorgeous body and a smile so spectacular, the woman could have been a toothpaste advertisement. She showed it off brightly as she held a phone to her ear and peered through the window.

“Shit,” Dean muttered and Meg just cackled again.

“What am I missing?” Emmanuel asked, curiosity winning out.

“That’s Lisa Braeden. We all went to High School together. She’s Dean’s summer fuck buddy.”

“Shut up, Meg, Jesus. We had one weekend, one summer, that’s it.”

Meg snorted. “Yeah, tell her that,” She turned to Emmanuel. “Lisa grew up here but moved up to Boston. Opened a Yoga Studio near  _ UMass _ , but every summer she always comes and stays a month at the family home,” Meg said loftily. 

“And Dean is kind enough to ‘entertain’ her?” Emmanuel questioned, swallowing past the bad taste it left in his mouth, rinsing it down with coffee.

“ _ One _ time,” Dean reiterated. “Last year, all I did was drive her home when she got too blitzed at Harvelle’s. She’s not so bad, you know,” Dean said, with a side look at Meg. “You just hate her because she beat you out for cheer captain.”

“Yeah, cause that bitch told the coach I was smoking weed in the out-of-use bathroom by the science wing!”

“Well?” Emmanuel cocked his head, “were you?”

Meg merely gaped at him and Dean dragged a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh as Emmanuel reached for his cup and sipped. He closed his laptop and slipped it into his messenger bag and laid it in the seat next to him at the counter. He didn’t look up when the door opened. Instead, he watched Dean’s face; sporting his ever-present charming smile, gorgeous green eyes friendly, but no more than that.

“Dean Winchester, you’re looking handsome as ever,” Lisa said brightly, and even more lovely up close. She was all dark hair, soft eyes, golden skin, and though she didn’t have the equipment he looked for in a sexual partner, Emmanuel could see why she turned Dean’s head, if only temporarily. For a moment, unbecoming jealousy reared up, so thick it choked him. This gorgeous woman, in her sunny yellow sundress, knew Dean’s touch and his taste, and the very thought of it was vile, twisting his stomach.

“Lisa,” Dean’s voice was smooth, his smile captivating and oh, how Emmanuel wanted to keep it for himself. “It’s good to see you. Wasn’t sure you’d be around when the fourth came and went without your pretty face popping in here.” 

It bothered Emmanuel that Dean had noticed she was gone. It bothered him more that his feelings for the man apparently turned him from a sexually confident adult to an insecure teen in his first relationship. _Is this what happens when you began a committed relationship for the first time? You become paranoid?_

“I learned after last year that the shop is less busy in August because a lot of my young clientele is busy gearing up for next semester, taking last minute vacations before September.“

“Smart. So, what can I get you? The raspberry cheesecake blondies are pretty popular,” Dean said, topping off Emmanuel’s cup without having to be asked. 

“No more after this,” Dean said censured quietly, handing over four creamers. “Seriously, you drink too much of this, we’re gonna find you some healthier alternatives. You’ll wind up with an ulcer.”

“Told you,” Meg said, taking her apron off.

Emmanuel could only stare at Dean besottedly, a half-smile playing about his lips as stirred absently. Lisa watched the exchange with interest and he felt an ugly smugness, then cursed himself for being so dramatic.  _ Stop describing yourself like one of your lovesick characters.  _

“As much as I’d like to see how this plays out, I finally convinced the youngest Winchester to come out and play tonight and I need to go make myself edible.” Meg’s sultry voice broke through Emmanuel’s day-dreaming when Dean made a sound of surprise.

“No shit? Finally! Go tap that ass, girl!” Dean held his hand up in the universal sign for a high-five which Meg eagerly responded to.

“Dean! That’s your brother,” Emmanuel admonished, and for a second Meg and Dean stared at each other, frozen, until almost simultaneously, they both started laughing uproariously.

“Remember, no glove, no love,” Dean said shamelessly, earning himself a wink.

“Have a lovely night, boys,” Meg smirked, passing by Emmanuel and patting his cheek. “Lisa.”

“Meg,” Lisa volleyed back just as cooly and Dean rolled his eyes as the door.

“You two need to get over that whole cheerleading thing. I’ll be polite and not mention how many years it’s been,” Dean said and Lisa huffed, but didn’t protest. “Decide what you want yet?”

“Well, I’ll take the low-fat blueberry muffin.”

_ Of course, she would,  _ Emmanuel scoffed to himself. Dean pulled on some gloves and grabbed a muffin from its slot, placing it in a take-out bag with some napkins.

“Anything else?” Dean asked politely and Lisa tipped her head, expression aimed at seductive.

“Well,” she said, biting her lip, ”I was hoping… you? Dinner, tonight?”

Despite having to know it was coming, Dean still managed to look gobsmacked and Emmanuel found some of his good humor returning, along with his confidence.

“Dean?” Emmanuel let his voice drop even lower; gritty, yet coy, and the effect had Dean’s eyes dilating. Pouring some cinnamon and sugar into his cup and stirring, Emmanuel pointedly ignored the irritated look that graced Lisa’s face with his interruption.

Dean’s gaze swept over him, swallowing visibly when Emmanuel took a deep sip of his coffee and arched a brow. Their eyes locked for what seemed forever before Dean stuttered: “Uh.. yeah?”

“Do you think I put too much cinnamon in here?” Dean’s brows knitted together at the question which gave Emmanuel the advantage of surprise when he yanked Dean forward by the collar of his shirt and proceeded to lick into his delectable mouth.

The quiet mewl that Dean released had need fisting in his gut and Emmanuel tugged sharply at the man’s tongue with his teeth, then sucked the muscle gently before giving the same attention to his bottom lip. When he finally released Dean’s mouth with a wicked smile, Dean continued to lean over the counter into Emmanuel’s space, flushed and dazed.

“Tastes perfect to me,” Dean finally said, almost wondrously, thumb coming up to press at Emmanuel’s slightly chapped lips. 

An indignant cough sounded next to him and Dean cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck as he turned back towards Lisa.

“I’m flattered, Lis, honestly, but as you might have guessed, I’m seeing someone. Lisa, this is my boyfriend, Emmanuel, but he goes by Jimmy,” Emmanuel smiled at her a little sheepishly. He hadn’t really thought beyond his possessive display to a conversation afterward, though if the mirth now lighting in Dean’s eyes meant anything, he certainly had. 

Lisa narrowed her pretty eyes at him, scrutinizing, and Emmanuel was shocked to hear her let out a melodious peal of laughter. “Well played, Jimmy. I’m happy for you Dean. He’s hot and sassy,” Lisa said with a wink. Emmanuel found himself smiling back at her, genuinely this time. “S’bout time you got serious about someone.”

“Same could be said, Lisa,” Dean teased. “Have you heard who’s back in town?” Dean gossiped like an old woman at Bridge club and Emmanuel found it adorable.

Lisa widened her eyes in mock surprise, “No, who?”

“Benny Lafitte.”

“Well, that’s interesting,” She said with a mischievous grin. Dean and Benny had been two of a very few openly bisexual teens in high school.

“Thought you might think so. He opened a new restaurant over by the pier. Maybe go check it out? Ask for a tour?”

Lisa broke off a piece of her muffin and chewed thoughtfully. “I think I just might. Thanks, Dean,” she said when he waved her money away. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

When Lisa left, Dean leveled him with his stare, which to Emmanuel’s credit, he didn’t back down from.

“So. That crazy, possessive display back there?”

“Yes?” Emmanuel gritted out, cheeks flushing as he held the gaze.

“Hot as fuck.”

The air punched out of Emmanuel sharply at the words and he watched a dirty smile steal across Dean’s face. He licked his lips and almost groaned when Dean’s eyes darkened as they followed the movement of his tongue. 

“How long till Gabriel gets here?” Emmanuel asked, turning on his stool as Dean came around the corner to stand between his legs. He slid his hands up Dean’s strong arms, tugging him closer and pressing his face to the man’s stomach, inhaling that vanilla and sandalwood scent that always seemed to follow Dean. Fingers combed through his hair, and Emmanuel groaned appreciatively.

After a few minutes, Emmanuel tipped his head back up, and standing so he could wind his arms around Dean’s neck. Grateful for the quiet lull in the bakery, he angled his mouth for another kiss. That kiss turned to two, then three, until finally a loud round of applause sounded from the door, causing them to break apart with a filthy wet sound.

“Hey, Gabe,” Dean’s voice was breathless and Emmanuel couldn’t help but laugh as he nodded at the man and proceeded to drag Dean, weakly waving at Gabriel, through the kitchen doors.

“Have a good shift,” Emmanuel deadpanned at the man who was smiling at them widely with a lollipop jammed in his cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean barely had a second to wave at Gabriel before Emmanuel was dragging him through the kitchen. A chorus of “Go get’em, cowboy!” followed after them as they kiss-stumbled up the back staircase to the sound of Kevin and Krissy’s laughter in the back while they rolled out pie crust.

Dean reached the door first, grappling in his back pocket for the key, and he laughed breathlessly when Emmanuel draped over his back, the warmth of his mouth on the back of his neck tickling erotically.

“Hang on- give me-” Dean tripped through the door as it jerked open, cackling as Emmanuel kicked it shut and proceeded to alternate between pushing Dean into the living room towards the overstuffed chair and removing his clothing. 

“You in a hurry, sunshine?” Dean asked cheekily, and heat suffused his body at the dark look and arched browed leveled his way. Dean swallowed harshly at the picture the man-made; dark hair tousled, tanned bare chest with dusky nipples he ached to taste, and dark freckles teasing him delectably.

Emmanuel’s rushed movements stopped and he inched closer to Dean, cocking his head as he stared into Dean’s eyes with his wide blue gaze. “I want to enjoy this evening with you, Dean. I want all the cliches. I want to buy you a rose and watch the sunset with you. I want to take our time over dinner and talk and hold hands; and I want to stand at the pier under starlight in the breezy ocean air and kiss you slow and deep. Do you want that, too, Dean?”

“Fucking poet,” Dean murmured, “Yeah, I want that.”

Emmanuel’s expression turned coy as his hand trekked up Dean’s shirt, tugging at the collar so he could lean in and place a soft, open-mouthed kiss to Dean’s clavicle.

Emmanuel hummed against Dean’s skin as he sucked and nibbled. “Can you feel the need thrumming between us?” Dean’s head tipped back on a groan as teeth sank hard enough to mark his neck before being soothed with a velvet tongue. Emmanuel chuckled and the sound was smoke and sin. He drew back and tugged at the hem of Dean’s shirt and it was soon discarded. Emmanuel unbuttoned Dean’s fly then moved to his own and pushed his jeans and boxer briefs down in one motion, a hot look urging Dean to do the same.

The deep growl of approval Emmanuel let out at the sight of Dean’s cock had precome beading at the flushed head and he made no protest when a wide palmed hand pushed him into a lazy sprawl on the chair. Emmanuel stepped in between his legs, hand lazily stroking his own length and Dean bit his lip at the vision before him. Long, and thick, nearly purple at the tip and,  _ oh _ , how Dean wanted to be taken apart by that gorgeous cock. 

“Tonight, I want to make love. I want to open you up, and fuck you deep until the only thing we are is a livewire of bliss,” the words made him gasp and Dean reached out to clutch at Emmanuel’s hips, dragging him closer, until he sank and straddled Dean’s thighs. Emmanuel braced himself on Dean’s shoulders as he edged closer and Dean adjusted until their cocks lined up, twin whines escaping at the contact.

“But right now,” Emmanuel bit out, one hand sliding off of Dean’s shoulder to reach onto the little side table housing the remotes, to grab a small bottle of Astroglide, popping the cap. “We’re going to take the edge off.”

Despite the confident tone, the dark blue eyes in front of him were soft, offering Dean an out if he so chose to take one. Instead, Dean smiled, amused, and took the lube from Emmanuel’s hands, pouring it into his own.

“Been planning this, huh?”

Emmanuel had a second to look chagrined before letting out a needy growl when Dean wrapped his slick hand around two of them.

Dean set a fast pace, knowing it was what Emmanuel had been craving. Dean pushed up into the stroke of his hand, rubbing against Emmanuel’s leaking dick, grunting in approval when he took one hand off of Dean’s shoulder to join his over their hard flesh, adding a tight squeeze. 

“Ah, fuck-” Dean’s cry cut off as Emmanuel dipped in to plunder his mouth, wet and sloppy and so fucking hot. He felt a hand fist in his hair and Dean splayed his palm against Emmanuel’s ass, loving the feel of his flexing cheeks. Dean could feel his orgasm coming, the tell-tale tightening, a warning. He gasped into Emmanuel’s mouth. “Close- _ unh _ -”

“ _ Yes, yes, yes _ ,” Emmanuel panted, fingers leaving Dean’s hair to clench at his bicep hard, as he came all over Dean’s knuckles with a harsh gasp of air.

Dean bit his lip, as the sight of Emmanuel’s come pulsing all over their cockheads had him tipping his back in a guttural cry of release. Sticky splashes of spunk coated his fingers and chest, weak spurts still dribbling as he continued to loosely stroke them through the aftershocks. Emmanuel collapsed bonelessly against him, and despite the heat and sweat, seemed content to stay sprawled there as breath fought to return. In fact, Dean was pretty sure they both might have dozed off for a few minutes. He blinked his eyes open and felt a euphoric bubble of laughter escape. He honestly didn’t think he knew what to do with this foreign happiness inside of him. 

“What are you thinking?” Emmanuel’s voice, rough and deep warred with his sated smile and sleepy eyes. 

Dean raised a shaky hand to card through Emmanuel’s hair, and trailed down to thumb at his salt and pepper stubble. Dean leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to his sweat-dampened temple. “All good things.”


	8. Chapter 8

They showered separately when it became apparent they’d never have dinner if they didn’t. Emmanuel went first, foregoing his own body wash and using Dean’s, enjoying the creamy, rich wood smell and sweet resinous notes. Mostly, he loved having the smell of Dean on his body. Just being surrounded by the scent and the steam had his cock chubbing up and he found himself laughing. He hadn’t been this quick to recover after coming since he was a teenager.

He towel-dried his hair and body and brushed his teeth in the nude as he tried to think if he had anything date appropriate to wear clean so he wouldn’t have to raid Dean’s closet again. Emmanuel tamed his hair the best he could and ran a hand over his jaw, deeming himself bristly but not enough to shave. 

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Emmanuel left the bathroom to head to his bedroom, grunting exaggeratedly when Dean pretended to shove him with his shoulder into the wall on the way by.

“You smell good,” Dean said, nosing at his neck before smacking a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I smell like you,” Emmanuel said with a wink. “Just missing the vanilla.”

“Yeah, well, pretty sure after all these years of baking, that is just permanently seeping out of my pores.”

Emmanuel laughed, continuing on to his room as Dean started up his shower. He rummaged through his bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of black jeans that were a little snug on his thighs, but hugged his ass in a way that he knew Dean would probably appreciate. He found a short-sleeved henley in dark charcoal color and black sports jacket. It was always a little windy on the harbor, so better safe than sorry. 

After putting on his boots and sticking his wallet in his back pocket, Emmanuel left his room, drawing up short at Dean standing before him. He was dressed similarly to himself; jeans and a short-sleeved Henley, only where Emmanuel had gone with darker colors, Dean had gone with light. Pale denim and a salmon-colored shirt that brought out freckles that Emmanuel was eager to map with his fingers. Like himself, he wore boots and a sports jacket, both in camel. Dean’s perfect face was freshly shaved and his burnt honey hair appeared soft and spiky and he didn’t stop his fingers from reaching out to touch the silky strands.

Dean eyed him up and down, catching his bottom lip in his teeth as he did so. “Damn, are you beautiful or what?” The words were murmured and Emmanuel wondered if he even meant to let them slip out. 

“Say’s the man who looks like a Calvin Klien model,” Emmanuel said teasingly, his wide-smile making the kiss Dean was trying to steal difficult.

“We’re both hot, let’s go make people jealous,” Dean said with a cocky smile that had Emmanuel tipping his head back in laughter.

* * *

  
Emmanuel and Dean left through the Bakery kitchen to the parking lot where Dean’s Baby was parked. Baby, Emmanuel had learned, was Dean’s pride and joy; formerly his father’s, a shiny black beast of a car, the 1967 Impala gleamed in the late afternoon sun. It was gifted to Dean when he turned sixteen. Dean had told Emmanuel that he thought his Dad had the idea that if he gave him the car, then maybe he’d branch out, maybe take some road trips. 

_ I tried _ , Dean had said, _ but I just couldn’t. Probably regrets giving her to me now, but too late. She’s all mine. _Dean’s face had lit up as he spoke but there had been a hint of sadness in his eyes as well. Emmanuel detested seeing it and only hoped he could bring more happy days to the warm man who had his fingers twined with his own.

The music played low, classic rock of course. 

“Sorry about the pit-stop but I promised my mom and Becky and if I skip they’ll know somehow.” Emmanuel just squeezed Dean’s hand in response. The window was rolled down and wind tousled his hair, briny and warm. 

Emmanuel had a dizzying wave of deja vu as the car sped down the road and they sang along to, _ The Rolling Stones - Wild Horses _, a song he never realized he knew all the lyrics to until he found himself crooning along with Dean, not missing a word.

“This song reminds me of when I was a kid,” Dean’s voice was wistful, and Emmanuel turned a bit to better study Dean’s profile. “We used to do bonfires on the beach, me, and Cas’ family. On some nights, if we were lucky, we’d get to camp out.”

“Not afraid of being swept away?” Emmanuel teased and Dean laughed.

“Naw, they had sites set up far enough away. Cops were a lot more lenient back then, too,” Dean said. “No one cared if you were drinking boxed wine while your kids ran around the beach covered in S’Mores, and holding Sparklers.” The image made Emmanuel smile and for some reason, his chest felt tight. An echo of childish laughter sounded in his head for a moment, so overwhelming that it took a second for Dean’s voice to break through the foggy bubble Emmanuel found himself in.

“And every time, at least once a night, I remember our parents danced to this song. Mom and Becky would hold their red solo cups up high and belt out the chorus Dad and Chuck would dance, just horrifically,” Dean said with an amused smile. “God, we laughed. It got to the point where us kids would all join in till we knew all the words too.”

Emmanuel could practically see it. A young Sam running barefoot on the sand as Gabriel grabbed him around the waist, dragging him away like the lyrics of the song. He saw the names Dean and Cas traced in the air by the crackling tip of sparklers twirled by children’s hands. The clarity of it astounded him and Emmanuel felt his heartbeat quicken.

“Hey, you okay? Jimmy? Jim?” A hand on his cheek startled Emmanuel back to the present and he found himself looking into wide green eyes filled with worry. Emmanuel was shocked to find they were parked in the driveway of a small yellow cape-style house. _ When had they arrived? _

Emmanuel swallowed, wincing at how dry his mouth suddenly felt. “I’m sorry, Dean. I was lost in thought. Your story… it sounds like a lovely memory.”

Dean still looked concerned. “You sure you’re okay? I called your name a few times before you were back with me.”

Emmanuel smiled at him and patted his thigh reassuringly. “I promise. Just daydreaming about the beach,” he said, trying to mask the slight shakiness he felt. 

“Alright. I’ll be right out, okay?”

Emmanuel nodded and Dean left the car running when he got out to collect the mail out its box and jogging up the walk to bring it inside. Maybe he needed to see a doctor. Maybe he was anemic or something. Emmanuel could think of all kinds of reasons he was having such a visceral reaction to such a sweet childhood story, but none of them explained the aching familiarity he felt with the pale blue house Dean was now heading over to; stopping to pull mail out of a shiny black box embossed with the name _ Novak _.

  
Shoving his unnerving feelings into a box labeled _ to be opened later _, Emmanuel let himself enjoy his evening with Dean. They wound up at Benny’s restaurant, Dean having called ahead and scoring them an outside table overlooking the water. True to his word, Emmanuel bought Dean a white rose from one of the waitstaff moving from table to table, earning himself a lingering kiss over his lobster bisque. The view was spectacular, sun sparkling over the water making it shimmer like diamonds. Then he looked at Dean, eyes bright and soft, playful smile about his pretty mouth, and decided he outshone the glittering water a million times over.

* * *

“You never told me what made you start reading my books,” Emmanuel commented as he sampled his bourbon steak, humming in approval at the sweet and savory taste of the Whiskey marinade.

“I was at one of Chuck’s book signings in town and saw the first in the series in the window. I don’t know, I guess I was just drawn in by the premise. A love so strong, it was worth giving up heaven? Sounded too good to be true. Honestly, I thought it was gonna be trash.” Dean laughed, not looking a bit sorry over his ribeye, and Emmanuel let out a mock squawk of indignation.

“I remember my mom was on me about dating again, about not putting my life on hold, yada, yada, yada. I’d finished the first book by then and I said _ Mom? This is what I want. The day someone makes me feels as extraordinary as these guys make each other feel. Then I’ll move on. _“ The weight of Dean’s own words seemed to hit him at all at once as a flush started up his cheeks to the tips of his ears, so it was no surprise to Emmanuel when Dean lightened the moment with: “Plus, the sex scenes are super hot.”

Emmanuel took a sip of his wine and was surprised when his phone sounded a message had been sent, in his pocket. “Are you sure?” he asked when Dean motioned for him to check it.

“Yeah, could be important, s’okay,” Dean said, nodding at the waiter who gestured to their wine glasses, coming over to top them off.

“Fuck,” Emmanuel muttered as he opened a text message from his agent, Hannah.

“What’s the matter?” Dean asked and Emmanuel sighed.

“I have to leave,” he started, quickly grasping Dean’s hand when his face blanched and he began to stutter.

“W-wait, what?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Not right now,” he said. “I have a book signing in two weeks, I forgot all about it. I’ve been a little preoccupied,” Emmanuel said, rubbing at Dean’s knuckles and smiling at him softly.

Dean’s brows smoothed out as he breathed out a relieved “Oh.”

“You could come with me,” Emmanuel said, gently, already prepared for Dean to turn him down. It was fine. They had plenty of time and he felt no need to push, so he was surprised when Dean asked him where it was being held.

“At a weekend convention for writers and graphic novelists in _ Saco _.“

Dean’s eyes widened. “Like Maine?” Emmanuel nodded. “Huh.”

Emmanuel tilted his head, eying him speculatively. “What?”

“S’not that far away, s’all. Only about four hours or so.” When Dean met his gaze, his expression seemed almost shy. “Be kinda nice to take Baby for a real road trip. If… if you were serious, I’d like to take you to your convention.” Dean’s eyes seemed to dance nervously but the set of his jaw was firm. 

Emmanuel searched Dean’s face, smiling softly when he only saw resoluteness. 

“I would love that, Dean.”

Dean’s smile lit up his face and the effect was nearly ethereal. “Great. I’ll make arrangements for coverage at the bakery.” 

They shared a dessert of cherries jubilee that was exquisite in between kisses and conversation. The sky was bleeding from orange to pink to purple over the waves and Emmanuel was grateful for his jacket when the breeze brought with it a salty chill. 

After making sure to thank Benny and compliment the chef, they walked out of the restaurant to the car. It was turning towards twilight and Dean twined his fingers with Emmanuel’s as he drove back to the bakery.

When they got back to Honeybee Dean asked Emmanuel if he wanted to walk to the pier. “I remember something about kissing under the stars?” He was reminded by playfully wagging brows and Emmanuel laughed.

They walked along the boardwalk and Emmanuel boldly slid his hand into Dean’s back pocket as they walked, pinching the firm cheek, making Dean laugh. “You’re a menace.”

“What did I do?” Emmanuel growled, leaning to playfully nip at Dean’s ear and palm his ass, smiling against the skin of Dean’s neck when he shivered.

“_ What did I do _, he asks?” Dean mocked teasingly. “Grabbing my ass and whispering in my ear in your phone sex voice-”

Emmanuel burst out laughing at that one, using his other hand to tug Dean against him firmly. They’d reached the pier. The boats over the water bobbed peacefully as the first few stars began to peek out. His fingers climbed into Dean’s soft tresses and he pulled him in for an open-mouthed kiss. Heat suffused his body as he pressed against Dean’s firm chest. Strong arms slipped under his jacket and gathered him closer and Emmanuel relished in the feeling of equal power, hard body against hard body as their tongues tangled together sinuously under the stars. When they broke for air, their ragged breath was audible.

Dean closed his eyes, lashes dark crescents against his beautifully freckled skin, and leaned his temple to Emmanuel’s. 

“You scare the hell out of me,” Dean whispered suddenly, eyes opening to focus on him intensely. “But I’m so glad your here.”

“Me too, Dean,” Emmanuel murmured, tucking his face into the warm skin of Dean’s neck. Vanilla and sandalwood and heat had desire rearing up inside, the low simmering arousal he’d felt all evening beginning to reach a fevered pitch and it was an unspoken agreement when they began to make their way back home.

_ God _, did he like the sound of that. He was going home with Dean and he was going to take the gorgeous man apart and slowly put him back together again. It took longer than it should have to reach the apartment; constant stops for slick, wet kisses, aiding in the extra time.

Clothing was stripped on the way to Dean’s room, unspoken that his amply wide bed would be their end game. Emmanuel’s breath caught when without a word, Dean slipped to his knees before him, looking up with him, forest eyes shining. His pulse jumped when Dean’s hands ran up his legs and slid over his ass, tugging him forward. Warm breath fanned over his rapidly hardening cock, eyes closing as he felt Dean nuzzling at the coarse hair before kissing the tip of his cock sweetly.

Looking down, Emmanuel took himself in hand and dragged the tip of his cock over Dean’s lips, nearly groaning at the sight of pre-come glistening on Dean’s full bottom lip. He _ did _ groan when a pink tongue darted out to taste the liquid.

“Taste good, Dean?” Emmanuel asked and Dean’s reply was to open his mouth in silent invitation. He began to feed his cock into Dean’s delectable mouth bit by bit, the wet heat of it punching a deep moan from his mouth. Emmanuel had to look away when Dean lips wrapped around his cockhead and sucked, otherwise he would have come all down his pretty throat right then. Dean’s tongue swirled, coaxing more precome to ooze from his slit. His hips began to thrust shallowly and it wasn’t long before Emmanuel was close to the edge.

“Dean, oh-” Emmanuel gently pulled at Dean’s hair, urging him off and up. When Dean’s mouth slotted over his, he tasted the lingering flavor of himself mixed with cherries. “Wanna come inside you,” he whispered, grinning when Dean mewled into his mouth. 

Dean reached into his nightstand and tossed a condom and a bottle of lube on the bed before laying back on the soft plaid bedspread. “How do you want me, sunshine?” Dean asked playfully.

“Just like this,” Emmanuel growled, crawling up Dean’s body, sucking marks into his skin on the way until reached his lips. “You’re a wonder, you know that?” Emmanuel fell against Dean’s body, groaning into his mouth at the full-body contact and Dean dragged him into another intense kiss. Emmanuel blindly reached for a pillow, allowing himself to rut up against Dean a few times before slithering back down his gloriously freckled body. Dean’s cock was long and thick and he licked a stripe from base to tip before urging Dean’s hips up so he could slide the pillow underneath.

His breath hitched when he spread Dean’s bowed legs and revealed his pucker, tracing the dusky wrinkled skin softly, making Dean’s stomach muscles quiver. Emmanuel stroked his own cock lazily as he fingered at Dean’s hole, not breaching yet, just gentle brushes until Dean’s legs began to tremble with impatience and want.

Emmanuel opened the lube, coating his fingers before gently circling the tight ring of muscle. He slowly worked Dean open, first one then two fingers, making a _ v _ with them and stretching. Dean was breathtaking in front of him, skin with a light sheen of sweat as he closed his eyes. Dean arched his body as he proceeded to bear down on Emmanuel's fingers, art in motion as he swiveled his hips. 

“More. Please, I can take more,” Dean whined and Emmanuel leaned forward to soothe him with a kiss, distracting him with long strokes of his tongue as he worked his way up to three, then four fingers.

“Sunshine, please, I’m ready,” Dean sounded wrecked and just from his fingers and the sound of it had him squeezing the base of his own cock for some relief. Dean’s rim was pink and puffy, stretched and glistening from the languorous fingerfucking and Emmanuel couldn’t resist having a taste. He sucked slowly, tongue darting in and out between his fingers and Dean became a babbling mess. His cock was pretty and flushed and dripping copiously. Emmanuel knew it would only take a few hard strokes to make Dean come and he wanted to be buried deep when that happened. Teasing finished, Emmanuel hastily tore open the condom wrapper, sliding it on and coating his dick with the lube.

Emmanuel kneeled between Dean’s thighs, groaning when they parted even wider in a delightful invitation. Dean canted his hips up and Emmanuel chuckled darkly and finally, _ finally _, began to breach Dean’s hole, guttural moan ripping from his throat as his cock was gripped in a slick, tight heat.

Underneath him Dean wasn’t faring much better, eyes rolling back in his head and body literally shaking with the need to move. 

“Fuck, Dean, _ unh _ , you’re _ so _ tight,” Emmanuel dropped his forehead to Dean’s as he gritted his teeth to keep from coming too soon.

“Fill me so good, baby, please move,” Dean whined softly, then more loudly when Emmanuel began to thrust shallowly. The tight drag against his cock as he slowly slid in and almost out had him growling and hitching Dean’s right leg over his shoulder for a better angle. The new position had a delicious cry falling from Dean’s lips as Emmanuel’s cock started pistoning faster. Dean rolled his hips up to meet him and the room was a cacophony of skin slapping on skin and harsh grunts of pleasure.

Emmanuel shifted forward a little more and Dean let out a hissed “_ Fuuuuuuuuck _ ,” when Emmanuel’s cock brushed against his prostate. The sounds in the room were nothing short of pornographic and Emmanuel wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to last with exquisite mewls Dean was making and his tight ass gripping his cock _ oh _ so well.

Emmanuel pounded into Dean with deep hard thrusts, pressing desperate kisses to the meat of Dean’s thigh. The hand not gripping Dean’s leg gripped his furiously leaking cock and began stroking in time with his thrusts. Dean’s eyes were pools of need, and something deeper, and it was intoxicating.

“So beautiful like this, Dean. I love watching your greedy little hole take my cock,” Emmanuel’s voice was gritty with lust and he growled possessively when his words tripped Dean right into orgasm; sweat-dampened body bowing as Dean came spectacularly over Emmanuel’s tight fist, with a choked off gasp. Emmanuel jacked him through it, rubbing the slick jizz into Dean’s skin.

Licking the rest of the salty liquid from his fingers and humming at the bittersweet taste, he continued to pump his cock rapidly into Dean’s body. Watching Dean lost in his pleasure was by far the most erotic thing Emmanuel had ever seen and his hips stuttered madly as he chased his own completion, the rhythmic clenching of Dean’s ass dragging him right over the edge with a high-pitched keen he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of. Pulsing, filling the condom with his own thick release, his whole body quivering like a plucked bow-string.

Dean whimpered when Emmanuel slipped out of his body, stripping off the condom and tying it off quickly, tossing it into the waste-paper basket. Dean’s still-trembling legs fell open as he fought for breath, revealing his fluttering pucker and Emmanuel couldn’t resist parting Dean’s firm freckled cheeks further to lavish a dirty kiss on his gaping hole. Emmanuel’s spent cock twitched valiantly at the soft gasps of stuttered air that escaped Dean’s lips when Emmanuel sucked and tongued his entrance. He only pulled away when it became too much and Dean tugged at his hair. 

Emmanuel lifted his head with a final lick and rested his stubbled cheek on Dean’s splayed thigh. Dean continued to card his fingers through Emmanuel’s sweaty hair and their gazes locked, needing no words to recognize that what they had just shared was extraordinary. Emmanuel’s fingers laced with Dean’s free hand as they drifted off to sleep, sated, and at least in Emmanuel’s case, very much in love.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean was jolted awake by thrashing movement on the bed. His boyfriend was restless, head tossing and turning as he screamed his name, voice raw and terrified.

“Dean! Dean!”

“Jimmy,” Dean called out, laying a hand on the man’s arm softly. “C’mon, sweetheart, wake up now,” Dean was afraid to shake him awake, not wanting to make it worse. Dean lurched back just in time as Emmanuel surged up, just missing being clocked in the face by Emmanuel’s head, blue eyes opening as he gasped Dean’s name again.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here.” Dean ran a hand down Emmanuel’s broad back, warm strokes meant to soothe. Emmanuel propped his arms on his knees, head falling in between the space as he sucked in deep gulps of air.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

“Nothing to be sorry for, sunshine. You okay? You were screaming my name.”

Emmanuel nodded, finally raising his face to Dean’s, cobalt eyes wide and vulnerable. The moonlight spilled through the curtains creating patterns across his striking face. Dean cupped his strong jaw, thumb brushing the stubble as Emmanuel’s breath seemed to settle.

“Sorry. Dreams. I have dreams of the accident sometimes.” Dean knew that; they’d spoken of it before. “Of other things — I don’t know.” Emmanuel shook his head, brows knitting together as he gathered his thoughts. “They didn’t use to be this bad or as often,” he tugged on his chapped bottom lip with his teeth, releasing the flesh and it glistened in the minimal light. “I think some of my memories from before the accident are starting to come back. Fragmented, but the images feel real. Mixing in with my daily life, I guess,” Emmanuel said, with a glance at Dean.

“Why now, you think?” Dean asked, gently and Emmanuel gave a weak shrug.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, but Dean felt that there was more Emmanuel wasn’t saying. Things that he maybe wasn’t ready to talk about. “I wonder if it’s because I’ve been so relaxed? I’m at home here, in a way I never have been before. Maybe my brain is just finally ready?”

Dean scooted closer to Emmanuel and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need. If you wanna talk about it, if you just want someone to lean on, I’m your guy. Capisce?”

Emmanuel snuggled in closer to Dean, resting his head in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I capisce,” came the soft reply.

Dean glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 3:13, noting that his boyfriend, despite the cuddle session, did not appear to be falling asleep again any time soon. Dean switched on the bedside lamp, laughing when blue eyes blinked at him owlishly.

“C’mon,” Dean said, slipping out of bed and heading towards his bureau. Dean tossed Emmanuel a pair of sweatpants from his drawer and tugged a pair over his own ass, wincing a bit as he moved. Emmanuel caught the expression and Dean couldn’t even fault him for his smug smirk. Instead, he chucked a tee-shirt in his face, while they both laughed good-naturedly.

“Here, socks too,” Dean handed over a pair, waiting until Emmanuel had slipped his on before taking his hand.

“Where are we going?”

Dean just turned back to him, pressing a smacking kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.”

* * *

  
  


Dean’s head bobbed to the music as he pulled ingredients from the shelves, belting out lyrics in a way that had to hurt his throat. 

_ “She was a fast machine’ _

_ she kept her motor clean’ _

_ she was the best damn woman I had ever seen!” _

Emmanuel laughed as Dean danced around in sock-clad feet and an apron. He jived his way over to Emmanuel, making him snicker as he tied an apron around Emmanuel as well. Soft lips caressed the nape of his neck playfully. Dean gripped his hips, nuzzling him from behind as he playfully ground against Emmanuel to the song.

_ “Shook me all night long. _

_ Yeah. You shook me all night long!” _

Dean made Emmanuel dance with him until the song was over and he was laughing, tipping his head back against Dean’s shoulder as they moved. 

“Okay, go wash your hands and we’ll get started,” Dean said, letting Emmanuel slip away so he could place a large metal mixing bowl on the countertop.

“What are we making?” Emmanuel asked, and it almost hurt with how tight with emotion he felt; wondering how on earth he was so fortunate to have met this sweet man. A man who invited him into his home, shared his deepest pain, and thought nothing of getting up at 3:30 in the morning to distract Emmanuel from a nightmare with some dirty dancing and twilight baking.

“Depends. How do feel about oatmeal?” Dean tossed the question at him with a dramatically raised brow, as though it were a test. He ridiculously wanted to pass.

“I’m not averse to it in cookie form, barring it has either enough cinnamon or chocolate chips, depending on which flavor profile you’re going for,” was his deadpan response, eyes steady, his own brow raised in challenge.

“Good answer,” Dean said, before he clapped his hands. “Alright! Let’s get started.” 

The recipe was quick and easy. 3 cups Brown Sugar, 3 cups of butter, -_ holy shit, Dean, that’s six sticks! _6 cups of oatmeal, a tablespoon of Baking powder, three cups of flour, and cinnamon to taste.

“My mom always called these aggression cookies. Whenever us kids were in a mood or upset about something, she’d have us make these. Wash our hands and just mash everything together in the bowl,” Dean explained as he had Emmanuel pour all the ingredients in the bowl and then gestured for him to just dive in.

It was fun and messy and kind of therapeutic. He got the appeal. Squishing the mixture between his fingers and rolling it around until it all mixed well together. Emmanuel could picture Dean as a young boy, working out his aggression, made in spicy oatmeal cookie dough. Emmanuel glanced at Dean and saw that he was getting out a large baking sheet and pre-heating the oven.

Emmanuel probably used too much cinnamon, but he didn’t care because the besotted smile on Dean’s face as he wiggled his oatmeal covered fingers at him told him Dean would eat them even if they sucked. Dean pointed him towards and industrial sink to wash his hands then handed him an ice cream scooper, the kind with the handle that slid each scoop out perfectly, to put the cookie dough on the sheet. Dean took the cookie sheet from him and placed it in the oven. 

“ Best thing is, these only take twelve minutes to cook,” he said with a wink. Dean set the timer on the oven then proceeded to whip them up homemade hot chocolate on the stove.

Emmanuel couldn’t help but moan at the first sip. “This is so much better than instant,” he said, licking whipped cream from his top lip and Dean chuckled. 

“Damn straight,” he said, nudging his shoulder companionably. When the timer sounded, Dean carefully extracted the cookies and used a spatula to place them on a large plate, piled up. The baking sheet was placed in the dishwasher, the spatula washed and put away and Dean seemed to deem that long enough for the treats to cool off, even if the first bite had both of them hissing a little as the hot cookie broke apart, steaming, on their tongues. Cinnamon burst in his mouth and he hummed in enjoyment.

“Thank you for this, Dean, truly,” Emmanuel placed a hand on Dean’s hand, not just speaking of the cookies and hot chocolate. “It means… so much.”

A sappy smile bloomed on Dean’s face.

“I’m kinda in love with you,” the words tumbled out with no forethought, going by the way Dean gaped at him for a moment. His hand raised as though getting ready to explain, but eventually he just shrugged sheepishly. 

“I meant to say you’re welcome,“ he said with a self-deprecating smile. “I could lie and say I didn’t mean it, but we’d both know, so-” 

Emmanuel cut him off, grabbing Dean’s face and searching his steady green eyes. So much of what he felt — _ hope, fear, need, love — shone _ back at him and Emmanuel brought their lips together. The kiss was soft and achingly tender. Dean’s lips trembled against his own as they caught and held and released.

“I’m kinda in love with you too,” Emmanuel whispered in the small space between their lips. Dean let out a ragged sigh at the words, tipping forward to rest his forehead to Emmanuel’s.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean murmured back, reclaiming Emmanuel’s mouth in another kiss, this one much greedier than the first. Emmanuel shifted, maneuvering until Dean was against the counter. Baking forgotten, he slid his hands up and under Dean’s tee-shirt, sighing happily into his mouth at the feel of his warm, smooth skin.

Emmanuel was debating on whether he could lift Dean up onto the counter when the music abruptly stopped and an amused voice filled the room.

“I don’t care if you’re co-owner of this place, Winchester, we made a rule. No sex in the company kitchen!” Emmanuel didn’t even turn towards the sound of Gabriel’s voice, instead dropping his face to Dean’s chest to muffle his laughter.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, “lost track of time.” He yawned hugely and Emmanuel raised his head, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion as well. A glance at the wall clock showed it was nearly 4:30. “Couldn’t sleep, so I was gonna introduce Jimmy to some pre-dawn baking.”

“Jimmy, nice to see you even if you were just about to defile my kitchen with counter sex,” Gabriel smirked before adopting an stern expression, which was somewhat ruined when he used a pilfered cookie to lewdly make a pumping motion to punctuate his point.

Dean scoffed. “Number one, it’s our kitchen, and two, exaggerate much?”

“Hello, Gabriel,“ Emmanuel said sheepishly.

“We can finish this another time, I think Jimmy here looks like he might be able to sleep again,” Dean said, looking down at him with a warm smile and Emmanuel found himself nodding. Crazy how he had gone from stirred up to dead on his feet in such a short time. “But while you're here, I need to ask a favor.”

Gabriel’s brows rose in surprise and Emmanuel had the feeling that asking for help was not something Gabriel was used to from Dean.

“Sure, Dean-o, what can I do for you?” While he talked Gabriel began pulling measuring cups and bowls from the shelves and placing them alongside the things that Dean had already pulled down when they had arrived.

“Friday after next, I’m going out of town with Jimmy,” the words were said in such a way as to defy comment, “I know it’s my weekend to open, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll take the next two in a row.”

For a minute the only sound in the room was the hum of the appliances as Gabriel looked back and forth from Dean to Emmanuel like he was missing some vital information. Emmanuel slid in closer to Dean and slipped an arm around his waist as they waited for Gabriel to process this information. Finally, a wide smile spread across the shorter man’s face.

When he spoke, Gabriel’s voice was thick with emotion. “Yeah, buddy, of course. You guys have a great time, where are you going?”

Dean explained about Emmanuel’s writing con and Gabriel smiled, “Ha, yeah, I think dad was supposed to go to that one.”

Dean snorted, “Becky would have killed him if he bailed on their cruise for that.”

“Preach,” Gabriel laughed.

Emmanuel found himself yawning again and blinked up blearily as Dean squeezed his shoulder. “C’mon, let's try and get in a few more hours,” he said and Emmanuel nodded in agreement. On their way out of the kitchen, Dean thanked Gabriel again. 

As Emmanuel followed Dean through the door, he was surprised to have Gabriel grab his arm. When he whispered an earnest _ thank you, Jimmy _ into his ear _ , _he only smiled in response, then turned to catch up with Dean.


	10. Chapter 10

For Dean, the next two weeks seemed to fly by. He and Emmanuel kept themselves busy; Dean, by making sure Baby was road trip ready and giving her complete tune-up and oil change, and Emmanuel, finding that rush of inspiration, had again glued himself to his screen either in the bakery or the living room couch in his underwear, writing furiously, to the point where Dean would have to physically close the laptop to get his attention enough to stop and eat.

In that two week period, they also found time to get Emmanuel a PCP and both of them made sure to get a full work-up done, eager to enjoy each other’s bodies with nothing between them but skin. The first time Emmanuel entered him without a condom they’d both had to freeze, Dean to keep from clenching on the hard, silken heat buried inside of him and Emmanuel, from coming on the first thrust.

_ Dean grabbed the headboard tightly, fighting with everything he had to not push back on the rock hard cock filling his ass. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, wanting to beg his boyfriend to just MOVE already. He didn’t, though, because he could feel Emmanuel’s fingertips digging into his hips, no doubt leaving bruises, and his breath came in harsh gasps against the back of Dean’s neck. _

_ When Emmanuel finally began to move, he pulled nearly all the way out, then slammed back in, punching a deep grunt of satisfaction out of both of their lips. _

_ “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me, Dean,” Emmanuel praised, stroking a little bit faster. He reached an arm around Dean, urging him up to lean back against Emmanuel’s chest. _

_ Emmanuel growled in satisfaction when Dean’s mouth fell open on a gasp. The new angle had the head of Emmanuel’s cock rubbing against Dean’s prostate with every thrust of his hips. Dean’s head lolled back against Emmanuel’s shoulder, one hand gripping his thigh, the other reaching behind to fist in Emmanuel’s hair. He allowed Dean to tug until their lips met in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss; awkward and perfect all at once. They moved together like they were born for it, rising and sinking as one and the sound of Emmanuel’s cock thrusting into Dean’s slick, stretched hole, wet and sloppy had constant groans of bliss filling the room. _

_ Sweat dripped down his face, tracking down Dean’s neck. Emmanuel licked a stripe up the salty skin greedily. _

_ “Are you close, Dean?” Emmanuel growled in his ear, and he could only moan in response. Emmanuel reached around with his long fingers to grip Dean’s dripping cock. His stubbled cheek rubbed against Dean’s and he knew there would be visible stubble burn, but so long as Emmanuel didn’t stop fucking into him, Dean didn’t care if it hurt and would wear the marks with pride. _

_ The bed creaked underneath them as Emmanuel pistoned furiously, and Dean could feel his thigh muscles quivering under his own where they rocked together, chasing completion. Emmanuel fisted Dean’s cock in tight, twisting strokes, and breathed into his skin, “Come on, baby, that’s it. Give it up, Dean. Come for me, love.” _

_ Dean gave a high-pitched whine as his cock erupted, jizz thick and creamy pulsing out. Emmanuel had his head hooked over Dean’s shoulder as he watched, working Dean through the orgasm with a slick, come-covered hand. Dean could feel Emmanuel’s cock plump even more inside of his tight channel. Dean couldn’t help clenching as the hard length dragged against Dean’s walls and pushed back in, rapidly. One final thrust had Emmanuel roaring gutturally as he filled Dean with hot splashes of come.  _

_ Emmanuel sank back down, dragging Dean with him, still clutching the man to his chest. They were a hot sweaty mess, but it didn’t stop the euphoric bubble of laughter from escaping Dean’s lips. _

_ “Damn, sunshine,” Dean panted out, wincing when Emmanuel began to ease back, feeling the man’s come immediately start leaking out of his ass. “I’d ask how you got so fucking good at this, but I don’t wanna make myself jealous,” he was teasing of course and Emmanuel chuckled, nipping at Dean’s neck playfully before leaving the bed to go retrieve a washcloth.  _

_ “You say that as if you’re not the most breathtaking person I’ve had the privilege to touch,” Emmanuel said, easing Dean onto his back and parting his thighs. Dean blinked back the sting of tears as Emmanuel gently cleansed his abused hole, never having anyone care for him so tenderly. _

He had woken wrapped in strong arms this morning, feeling more at peace than ever. Even knowing that after a quick breakfast, he would be off to leave the state for the first time since he was a child, Dean was calm. He credited it to the strong man holding him, hard lines of his muscular thighs and arms a warm and welcome vice. 

Dean angled his head back and found Emmanuel staring at him with love and banked need simmering in his blue depths.

“What have I told you about staring at me?” Dean asked, playfully furrowing his brow, voice croaking from disuse.

Emmanuel nuzzled his cheek in response, the sound of their stubble rasping making him shiver. “That it’s super hot and manly,” Emmanuel deadpanned with a teasing nip to Dean’s earlobe.

“Right, except I’m pretty sure my exact words were, cut it out, that’s creepy.”

They wound up getting a later start than they had planned.

* * *

  
Dean still hadn’t been able to connect with his parents for more than a few minutes at a time and had resorted to emailing them about his new roommate-slash-boyfriend Emmanuel, leaving out the going out of town thing, not wanting to give his parents a heart attack in the middle of the Med. When Dean had told Sam about it, he thought the giant girl was going to cry. Somehow, his moose of a brother managed to hold back the tears, especially when Dean started grilling him about Meg.

_ God dammit, Dean, shut up and enjoy your trip, _ he’d said, promptly hanging up the phone.

Now, here they were; hands laced together, _Led_ _Zeppelin_ blaring as they cruised down the highway. Emmanuel smiled at him from behind cheap Walmart sunglasses, the one that showed his gums and wrinkled his nose and turned Dean to jelly. Dean kept waiting for the usual anxiety to rear up in his gut as he drove. But miraculously, the panic never came. Just a nervous sort of excitement at going somewhere new with the man he loved by his side.

When Dean had called Pam, his therapist had been proud of him, urging him to call her if he needed to anytime while they were on the road. Dean was happy that he didn’t think he would need to. 

They didn’t make any stops, aside from the coffee and breakfast sandwiches they had grabbed from a Dunkin Donuts drive-thru on the way out of town. Now as they drove through Boston and cruised into New Hampshire, Dean found himself laughing. It was a disbelieving sound full of joy and wonder as he looked over at Emmanuel.

“I left the state,” he said, not quite believing it, even as he passed the signs for the New Hampshire State Liquor store. “I actually left the state,” and damn if he wasn't a little choked up about it. Apparently, Emmanuel was too, as he crowded in and peppered Dean’s cheek with kisses as he drove, declaring how proud he was. 

The lake region of Maine was beautiful; all clear waters surrounded by trees and mountains. When they had first reached the lakeside hotel they were staying at, Dean had stood on their balcony just watching the water. His stomach fluttered nervously and for a split second, there had been a moment of panic. Dean sucked in a breath as he fought the urge to flee, to run back to his car and drive back home,  _ just in case.  _ It was ridiculous, logically, he knew that. 

Warm arms found him, wrapping around Dean from behind. Salt and pepper stubble rasped against his cheek as Emmanuel joined him overlooking the water, chin resting on Dean’s shoulder and swaying their bodies together. He hadn’t said anything, but the embrace settled Dean, enveloping him in coffee, cinnamon, and mint.

* * *

The convention had been a lot of fun. When he wasn’t hanging out with Emmanuel at his signing table, Dean wandered around. He’d found a few novelty items for Sam and Gabe and picked up an early release of some steampunk series that Becky enjoyed. 

On Friday evening, Emmanuel sat on a panel of other science fiction and fantasy writers and took questions. Dean had sat in the audience with Emmanuel’s manager Hannah, who had been so happy to meet him she’d introduced herself with a hug, not believing that the vagabond author had finally settled down. It had caused both of them to blush, not only because their relationship was so new but also because what she said was true. They were settled. Dean knew in his heart that Emmanuel was it for him and that steadied him in ways he never could have foreseen.

On Saturday, Emmanuel only had a short signing and brunch to sit through, so afterwards he had taken Dean canoeing down the Saco River. It had been a gorgeous day, sunny blue skies and hardly a cloud in sight. Dean had shamelessly ogled Emmanuel as he paddled, shirtless. The play of his back muscles rippling beautifully had desire singing through Dean’s system all day, and if he had satisfied that need with an impromptu frottage session in the water during a swim break, then that was between them and the birds dotting the shore. 

They had both been sad to leave in the morning, but excited to make plans to come back for a longer visit in the fall and experience some of the harvest festivals in October.

When they arrived back home, Emmanuel called the shower first, going straight to Dean’s bedroom and stripping as he padded into the adjoining bathroom. Dean unpacked their bags, making a pile for the laundry and stashing their clean clothes in the drawers. Emmanuel had stopped using the guestroom after his first nightmare and that week Dean had mentioned turning it into an office for him to write instead, earning him a wicked smile and out of this world blow job.

Not feeling like cooking, Dean yelled into the shower if Emmanuel was okay with just ordering a pizza and got a hollered, “Meat lovers!” as a response. He grabbed a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt for his boyfriend and threw them on the bed. When Emmanuel came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, steam billowing out after him, Dean gave him a lingering kiss and pressed his wallet into his hand.

“Pizza will be here any minute, I’ll be quick,” Dean said, laughing when Emmanuel dragged him back for one more kiss.

Dean heard the buzzer ring while he was singing, belting out _rising_ _ up, back on the streets _ . He finished scrubbing his body and hurried to finish washing his hair. When Dean got out of the shower he dried off and changed into his own bedclothes and headed out to the living room, stomach growling at the scent of melty cheese and spicy meat.

Dean’s heart kicked in concern when he walked into the living room and saw the pizza box on the coffee table and Emmanuel on his knees by the door. In his hand, he clutched a familiar photograph; the one of him and Cas that he always kept in his wallet; the same one he’d carried in his backpack as a kid. Emmanuel’s face was almost vacant as he continued to study the picture from his prone position on the floor.

Dean rushed over and dropped to the floor in front of him. “What’s going on, Sunshine?” and he sucked in a breath when wide blue eyes settled on his, vacancy gone and replaced with shock.

Emmanuel whispered something, but Dean couldn’t catch it, cocking his head. “I’m sorry?” 

“How... ” Emmanuel shook his head slowly, “This is me. In this picture, Dean.”

Static filled his head and Dean swallowed trying to focus on what Emmanuel was saying. 

“No, babe, that… that’s a picture of me and Cas,” Dean said.

When Emmanuel looked up at Dean again, his eyes were drenched in tears. “I know my own face,” his voice sounded wrecked and hollow. “Dean… am I Cas?”


	11. Chapter 11

Emmanuel didn’t think he could lose the smile off of his face if he tried. His new book was coming along so well, he’d made really wonderful friends, and he’d had a weekend talking about his work with enthusiastic fans. Coupled with exquisite, bone-melting sex with the kindest and most breathtaking man he’d ever known — whom he was madly in love and _ somehow _was in love with him too — Emmanuel was feeling pretty damn fantastic. 

He could hear Dean singing off-key in the shower and he snickered to himself as he grabbed paper plates and napkins out of the kitchen. Emmanuel also brought out two Downeast ciders, grated parmesan, and had the DVR queued up for the last few missed episodes of Master Chef.

Emmanuel was still chuckling at Dean’s rendition of _ Eye of the Tiger _ when the back door buzzer sounded. Emmanuel hit the button to let the pizza man up. He picked Dean’s wallet up off of the coffee table and walked to the door, opening it before the delivery person could knock.

“Hey, Dean. Here’s your— you’re not Dean,” it was said almost accusatory and Emmanuel raised a brow at the tone.

“No— ” Emmanuel looked down at the nametag on the shorter bearded man before him, “Aaron. I’m his boyfriend. How much do we owe you?”

“16.84,” came the gruff reply, and Emmanuel honestly couldn’t blame the man. He’d have been disappointed to find Dean taken as well when they first met. He flipped through the wallet and pulled out a twenty and handed it to Aaron.

“Keep the change,” Emmanuel said, taking the pizza box with an outstretched hand and a quick smile before he shut the door in the pouting man’s face. Emmanuel wondered as he fumbled with the box and Dean’s wallet, cursing as it hit the floor, if Dean was aware of Aaron’s little crush.

Emmanuel placed the box on the coffee table and bent down to pick up the wallet, grabbing a picture that had slipped out as he did so. 

It was old, and as he studied it Emmanuel felt all the air leave his lungs. Two little boys, no older than six or seven stared back at him. The blonde with a bowl cut and bright green eyes was obviously Dean. His hair was wet and spikey, freckles popping in the bright sunlight. In the photo, Dean smiled widely, clutching a purple freeze pop in one hand, the other resting on the shoulder of the boy standing next to him.

The boy wearing his face.

Emmanuel didn’t have many memories of his childhood, but he knew his deep blue eyes and sandy blonde hair that had only darkened as he grew older. He was sinking to the ground before he knew it, legs giving way until he landed on his knees; picture still clutched in his hand. Sound ceased to exist as everything around him became muted and numb. His mind fought with what he was seeing in his own hands; pieces of the dreams he has had for as long as he could remember that never made sense coalescing with stories Dean has told him. Emmanuel had told himself they didn’t mean anything, that he had just been merging his own trauma with Dean’s. He’d purposely ignored the signs, but how could he ignore this? This childhood photo with his face in it?

How? How could this be real?_ Was his whole life a fucking lie? _

Emmanuel didn’t even realize he was crying until a teardrop splashed onto the photograph. Destroyed, he blinked, registering Dean’s presence and concerned voice.

“What’s going on, Sunshine?” 

Dean’s green eyes were slightly panicked and wide with worry creasing his brow. Emmanuel found himself trying to form words, but only a gasp of air escaped. 

“I’m sorry ?” Dean looked scared; Emmanuel wanted to comfort him but was too afraid himself at the moment.

Somehow, Emmanuel managed to find his voice. 

“How...” he began, voice raspy, “This is me. In this picture, Dean.”

Dean’s Adam's apple bobbed as he absorbed that information, looking confused and even more fretful.

“No, babe, that… that’s a picture of me and Cas,” Dean said slowly and quietly, as though afraid to startle him. 

Emmanuel felt a surge of anger at the words. 

“I know my own face,” his voice sounded broken and shattered and the reality of the situation was fighting to break through the fog in his mind. “Dean… am I Cas?”

Green-gold eyes glazed with shock searched his face and the scrutiny was intense as Dean seemed at a loss for words.

Emmanuel looked down at the picture again and could almost hear the childish laughter that had burst from his lips before that picture was taken.

_ “Say Chuck E. Cheese,” _ the words came out in a ragged whisper, pulled from an echo in his mind and Emmanuel- _ no, that’s not my name! _ — Castiel — heard a sharp inhale come from Dean.

Dean, who was still on the floor with him, knees to knees and clutching his hand and _ when had he even taken it? _

_ _

“Dean… Dean, I’m Cas. _ I’m Cas I’m Cas I’m Cas I’m Cas _,” he felt strong arms gathering him in as he continued to sob uncontrollably. He was filled with a cacophony of emotions ranging from completely demolished to astonishingly relieved that the wrongness he had always felt was for a reason. It was dizzying, the warring reactions he was having.

Castiel was vaguely aware of a floating sensation as Dean hefted him into his arms with a grunt as he continued to cry, burying his face in his boyfriend's neck. He inhaled sandalwood and vanilla as Dean settled them on the couch until his raw weeping died down to hiccuping shudders of air. Castiel felt soft lips press against his forehead as Dean carded his fingers through his hair and made soothing _ shhh _ noises.

Castiel pulled back enough to peek at Dean and found nothing but unadulterated love deep in his eyes. He wanted to ask what they did now. Did he go to the police? The doctors? Would he need bloodwork? What did one usually do when they suddenly found out they’ve been kidnapped? The thought had a hysterical bubble of laughter escaping and he shook his head as Dean only seemed to grow more concerned.

“I’m Cas,” he said again, wondrously, before meeting Dean’s gaze. “What the fuck do I do now?”

Dean cleared his throat. “First, you’re gonna eat and get some rest. No, don’t argue with me.” Dean’s voice was firm when Castiel began to protest. “I know this is big and you sure as fuck need answers, and we’ll get them but right now, you’re exhausted. First thing in the morning, we’re gonna call Sam and have him meet us down at the police station. Sheriff Mills will know what steps we need to take next and Sam will handle any lawyer crap that comes up.“

Half of him really wanted to argue with Dean. How could he wait to deal with this? This was his identity they were talking about! However, his more reasonable half recognized that Dean was right. He was too emotionally distraught, not to mention _ too damn tired, _ to deal with the onslaught of questions that Castiel knew were coming his way. So, instead of fighting his boyfriend, he just nodded.

“Okay,” Castiel breathed out. “But I really don’t think I can eat right now, Dean.”

Dean smiled at him softly, “S’okay, sunshine. It’ll keep.” Dean gently extracted himself from the grip Castiel had around his neck and quickly made work of putting the pizza box in the refrigerator and hurrying back to hold out his hand. Castiel clutched it, gratefully, and allowed himself to be pulled into the bedroom. Dean pulled back the covers and got Castiel all tucked in before sliding in behind him. Dean tugged him close until his body was flush with Castiel’s back, arm coming around to hold him; a reassuring weight.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel’s said, voice rough from tears, and he wondered how the fuck he was supposed to fall asleep with all the shit swirling through his head. Dean’s calloused fingers slipped up under his tee-shirt, strong from working with his hands, and skimmed up and down his chest. There was nothing sexual in the consoling touch, only tenderness, and comfort. In spite of the turmoil in his head, Castiel found himself drifting. The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was Dean’s voice, soothing as silk.

“G’night, Cas, I love you.”

* * *

  


When Castiel woke it was to an empty bed but a bottle of water and two Advil sat on the nightstand. He pulled himself up to sitting and gratefully swallowed the liquid, cooling his throat parched from the previous night’s choking tears. He leaned back, head against the headboard, and closed his eyes, willing the medicine to kick in quickly. Castiel’s stomach felt empty and growled loudly though he was still afraid to actually eat anything for fear of vomiting it up immediately.

How could she have done this? How had his _ mother _stolen him from somebody else? Castiel could feel himself getting worked up again and fought to control his breathing.

_ Inhale 1, 2, 3, exhale 1,2,3. _

His relationship with Anna had always been a strained one, but she was still his mom. She was the one who fed and clothed him, who took care of him when he was sick. Was he supposed to hate her? Logically, he knew the answer was yes. He’d already had someone to do all of those things, and he had been _ ripped _ from her. Someone who he had learned through Dean, was loving and affectionate and used to laugh all the time. _ She _ is who should have raised him; not Anna who barely smiled, Anna who kept them on the run, and _ God _, if he had only known the real reason why. Anna, who could barely pat him on the head, let alone hug him, to the point where he was so touch-starved as a teen that he found himself sneaking into night clubs just to feel the warm touch of a body against his own.

He should hate her. But he hated himself more. Why had he given up? Why didn’t he fight? Fuck all, why couldn’t he _ remember _?

Castiel could only hope that there would be a clue hidden amongst his mother’s — _ Anna’s _ — things. He would have to, at some point, get them out of his storage unit, see if there was anything he would need to hand over to the police. _ The police. _ Castiel sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten, but the reality that he had to go down to the station to report himself as _ fucking found _ was so surreal. He didn’t even feel like this was his life. How the fuck had his entire existence turned into a _ Lifetime _ movie cliche?

Castiel took a deep breath and willed himself to get out of the bed. He dragged himself into the ensuite bathroom and took a piss. His face in the mirror was haggard, the lines at the corners of his eyes more pronounced, and his face was covered in stubble. Castiel couldn’t bring himself to care. He finished brushing his teeth without meeting his reflection again.

Castiel heard murmuring coming from the living room as his bare feet fell silently on the thick carpet. He leaned against the entryway to the living room, arms folded, and studied Dean. He was pacing the living room with the phone to his ear. His burnt-honey hair was standing up in tufts and there were shadows under his eyes. Castiel wondered if Dean even slept at all last night, or if he only stayed until Castiel had passed out.

Dean seemed to sense his presence and despite the weary set of his shoulders, his face was nothing but tender concern. Castiel found himself striding over, arms coming out to encircle Dean around his lower back. Castiel tipped his forehead to Dean’s chest and inhaled deeply to breathe him in and felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Dean’s free hand trailed up and down his back.

“Who are you talking to?” Castiel’s voice sounded gritty, even to himself, as he mumbled against Dean’s soft tee-shirt.

“I was just leaving Sam a voicemail. I completely spaced on him and Meg going to the concert by the pier. Guarantee there was plenty of bar hopping. We don’t have to wait for him.”

Castiel tilted his face and angled for a kiss which Dean readily gave; soft and lingering.

“Thank you. I am anxious to get this over with.”

“Okay, then. You go and get dressed and I’ll warm you up a honey croissant.” Castiel’s face must have displayed his feelings on eating because Dean only shook his head. “You didn’t eat last night and you need a little something in your stomach. You want coffee?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean and attempted to scoff playfully. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

* * *

They didn’t speak on the short ride to Salt Meadow Harbor’s police station. Castiel didn’t think he could handle idle conversation and thankfully Dean seemed to understand that. Instead, he held Castiel’s hand as he drove, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his knuckles. He only pulled away when his cell phone rang.

“Sammy, hey,” Dean said as he slowed the Impala to a stop at a red light. “I need you to do me a favor and meet me at the police station.”

Castiel couldn’t hear what Sam was saying but he assumed he must have been alarmed by Dean’s response.

“Mom and Dad are fine. Yes, so are Becky and Chuck, look Sam-Sam! Everyone is fine, calm down.” Dean rolled his eyes and Castiel nearly smiled at the affection in his voice that softened the gesture. “Sam...it’s about Cas.” Dean glanced at him, and Castiel wondered what he saw. “Just get there, Sammy.”

Dean hung up without a goodbye and immediately reached for Castiel’s hand again. He willed his stomach to stop swooping and tried to distance himself from what was about to happen. He welcomed the numb feeling that was beginning to overtake him, mind and body finally responding to the shock.

They parked and Castiel barely remembered crossing the lot before he was inside the precinct. The air was blessedly cool and smelled of copy paper and burnt coffee.

“Hey there, Donna,” Dean said as they approached a cheery-faced blonde filling out paperwork at a desk. “We have an appointment with Jody. Is she ready to see us?”

Donna smiled up at them, sending a curious glance to Castiel. “You betcha. I’ll just call her and tell her you’re headed on back.”

“That’s okay, Donna, I’m right here.” Castiel watched as an attractive brunette with warm eyes come around the corner of the desk.

She pulled Dean into a tight hug. “Your Uncle and I have been missing you. We hear you have a new person in your life.” Her voice was teasing as she blatantly scoped out Castiel.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean said with an exasperated laugh. “Who have you been talking to?”

“Your mother emailed me, of course.” Jody grinned.

“That didn’t take long. She ain’t got nothing on that boat to do but gossip about me? “Dean muttered, sliding his hand into Castiel’s and giving him a reassuring smile. “Jody, we need to talk.”

Jody’s demeanor switched instantly, becoming all business as she nodded.

“Of course. Are we waiting on anyone else?”

Castiel was happy to let Dean handle the preliminaries, his state still a bit hypnagogic. 

“Just Sammy — wait,” Dean craned his neck to peek through the slatted blinds.

“He’s here now. And, he brought Gabriel and Meg,” he sighed, turning to Castiel. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, they all have to be told at some point anyway.”

“Did you have to bring everybody?” Dean hissed as Sam approached. “Who the fuck is at the bakery?” he asked, eyes turning towards Gabriel and Meg.

“Relax Dean-o. You don’t just get to call and tell Sam to meet you at the police station and expect that I’m not going to come with; especially if it has something to do with Cas,” Gabriel bit back sharply. “Kevin and Krissy got it covered.

“I was with Meg when you called, Dean. Was I supposed to have her drive me all the way home to get my car?” Sam asked defensively and Castiel closed his eyes as a memory flashed in his mind.

_ You said you didn’t want the ‘nilla ones, Dean. S’mine. Share wif Cas. _

Same tone of voice, only infinitely younger, combined with what Castiel now recognized as the four-year-old version of a classic Sam Winchester bitch-face. Hoarding his vanilla duplex cookies in chubby little fists, because Dean had decided the chocolate ones didn’t taste nearly enough like Oreos to be worthy.

Feeling light-headed, Castiel bent forward and braced his hands on his thighs as he breathed. He immediately felt Dean’s arm circle around his waist.

“You okay?” he murmured in his ear and Castiel nodded.

“Okay, let's get this show on the road,” Jody said, once Castiel had straightened up, leading the group down the corridor to a spacious office.

“Some of you’ll will have to stand,” Jody said, sweeping her arms toward the two seats in front of her desk. Dean and Castiel sank into the chairs and he was gratified when Dean reached for his hands.

“What’s this all about, Dean?” Jody asked, with another curious look at Castiel.

“Jody, do you remember when Cas was kidnapped?” Dean asked and the change in the room was palpable.

Jody steepled her fingers, blowing out a breath. “Yeah, of course I do. I was just a rookie. That was such an awful time for your families. I remember thinking, just wondering, how anyone could recover from that. Dean, why…” Jody trailed off as Castiel cleared his throat and lifted his gaze. Dean squeezed his fingers in encouragement.

He felt all eyes on him when he finally spoke. “If I show you my driver’s license it will tell you that my name is Emmanuel James Milton. It’s the only name I’ve ever remembered since I was a child.” Castiel licked his suddenly dry lips. “You see, my mother, Anna, she always told me that was because of the accident. Apparently we had been involved in a car crash when I was eight years old. Anna said it was because we were on the run from my father who was a very bad person,” he shook his head, as if annoyed.

“She said the accident caused memory loss and that’s why I don’t really remember anything from before” Castiel risked a look at Gabriel and found him leaning against Sam for support and clutching Meg’s hand, sandwiched between them. _ Yes _. They were starting to see. 

“I mean, I had always had dreams,” he continued, flicking a hand towards his head, swirling his fingers, “images, flashes; music and lights. Anna said it was headlights and the radio. I never really questioned it.” _ Why didn’t I question it? _He sighed, knowing it was fruitless to blame a scared child for what had happened to him. To blame himself.

“Do you need a glass of water, sweetheart?” Jody’s kind voice snapped him back to the present and Dean scooted his chair closer so that he could rest their entwined fingers on his thigh.

“No, I’m fine, thank you. It’s just… a lot. I guess you all know where this is going. They weren’t dreams of the accident. There was never any accident. Dean and I, we recently went out of town.” Castiel nearly laughed out loud at how quickly Jody’s eyes flew to Dean’s face, wide in shock. Dean shrugged and tried to affect an innocent look that fooled no one but did manage to settle Castiel’s nerves and break the tension.

“When we came home last night I found a picture in Dean’s wallet. It was old, two boys about seven. I knew Dean’s face immediately. Who could miss those bright green eyes?” Castiel smiled at Dean when he brought his knuckles up for a kiss. “But the odd thing,” he continued, “was that I also immediately recognized the other boy. Because he was wearing my face,” he straightened up and took a deep breath. “My name is Castiel Novak and I was kidnapped when I was eight years old .”

  



	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. The amount of paperwork that went into reclaiming one’s identity was staggering. Despite Castiel being sure he was who he said he was, there was still due process. Dean could see his boyfriend was near his breaking point, nerves frayed at the edges now that everything was out in the open.

“His prints should be on file,” Gabriel’s voice sounded thready as he spoke up from the back of the room. Though he spoke to Jody, his eyes were only for Cas. “Aunt Becky, she uh-,” Gabriel paused, swiping a hand down his mouth as he fought to collect himself, “she works at the elementary school. She was always involved in fire safety and public servant week. When you and Dean hit kindergarten she and Mary took you both down to the police station. Had you guys printed as part of this crime prevention initiative program? You know, in case…”

“In case I got kidnapped?” Castiel asked with a hysterical little laugh. “Well, that’s ironic.” 

“Cassie, I — ” Gabriel stuttered, but Castiel held up a hand.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. I’m just…” he blew out a breath, not finishing the thought.

Jody excused herself to get the fingerprint scanner.

“Sammy, you think you can help Cas with this paperwork? The legalities and shit?” Dean asked and Sam shook his head, with an amused smile.

“Of course I’ll help with the legalities and shit,” Sam teased,“ though you probably won’t need much. Anna Milton is deceased. There won’t be a trial, the case will be considered closed. Cas, you have a social security number, you have a birth certificate. Guaranteed Becky has all of that saved, and once you’re officially identified…”

“You can take your life back, Clarence,” Meg piped up with a little wink.

* * *

  
An online search told them that Anna Milton was a widow, native to Salt Meadow Harbour. A year before Castiel was kidnapped, On September 15th, Anna Milton along with her husband Michael and their eight-year-old son Emmanuel James had been involved in a car accident with a drunk driver. Though she had survived, the head-on collision claimed the lives of both her husband and son. Poor Emmanuel had died on his own birthday.

When the prints proved Castiel’s words to be true, Dean felt like he was having a waking dream. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed, especially after what they had learned about the Milton family, but seeing it in black in white, was still a shock to his system. 

_ Castiel James Novak _

_ UnSub _

_ Fingerprint Match_.

It felt as though all of the air had left his lungs. Gabriel had immediately burst into noisy tears and thank God Sam was at his side when Castiel pulled away from him to comfort his older cousin, otherwise, Dean was sure he would have collapsed. 

“I’m going to give you guys some privacy. Take all the time you need,” Jody said, quietly slipping out of the room.

“Do… do you remember me, Cassie?” Gabriel had never sounded so vulnerable and Dean watched as Cas’ face softened as he smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry. It’s just bits and pieces right now. I’m going to make a doctor’s appointment. If there was no accident, then there has to be a reason for my memory loss.”

Dean cleared his throat and forced his insides to stop quaking. “We will, Cas. We’ll make an appointment right away.”

“What are you guys gonna do about Cas’ parents?” Meg asked and Dean looked at Cas, his deep blue eyes widening at the question.

“I don’t… I don’t know. Dean, they come home next week, don’t they?”

Dean raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sam’s supposed to pick them up at the airport Saturday morning. I feel like they should know right away, but it would be kind of cruel, don’t you think?”

“You mean us calling them up, introducing me as not only your boyfriend but their kidnapped son only for them to be stuck on a boat for another week freaking out about it?” Castiel asked dryly and Dean shot him the finger gun in solidarity. “As much as I would love to speak with them, I believe this would be much better handled in person. And, honestly, I could use a few days to collect myself before meeting them.”

Dean tugged Castiel in by the hand and cupped the back of his neck with the other hand. He leaned in to press a soft kiss between Cas’ brows.

“However you wanna do this, we’ll do it, sunshine.”

Castiel seemed to sag into Dean at the words and he wasted no time gathering him close. His eyes scanned the room, and Dean saw that he was not the only one struggling for composure.

“I want to go home now, Dean,” Castiel muttered into Dean’s neck. “Please, take me home.”

* * *

  
There would no doubt be follow-up but for right now, Dean just wanted to do what Castiel wanted and take him home. They took a quick detour to Castiel’s storage unit so he could pick up the few boxes of his mother — _ Anna’s — _things. Dean knew he’d been putting it off but under the circumstances, he knew that there could possibly be some answers in the old papers and journals.

Dean felt out of his depths with Castiel; the man had gone from clingy to distant in minutes and Dean could only imagine what was going through his head. Dean watched as Cas mechanically kicked off his shoes, tossing the cardboard box carelessly next to the twin that Dean had placed against the wall. 

“Cas? What do you need right now?” Dean’s heart broke at the listless look in Castiel’s eyes, brilliant blue dulled to a near stormy grey. He looked at Dean and shrugged.

“You wanna sleep?”

“No.”

“You wanna watch TV?”

Castiel sighed, “No.” He arched a brow at Dean as if to challenge him to come up with something else.

“You wanna talk?” Dean watched as Castiel cocked his head, tugging his bottom lip in between his teeth. 

“I think I’m all talked out.” His voice came out gritty and hoarse and again Dean felt a fissure in his heart crack open. 

As Castiel dropped to the couch Dean went and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and brought it out to his boyfriend. Castiel sat at the edge of the cushion, head in his hands, elbows braced on his thighs. He seemed completely oblivious to Dean’s presence. He nudged Castiel in the shoulder with the bottle as he sat down, urging him to look over at him. Even tired and shadow-eyed he was stunning and Dean couldn’t stop himself from leaning in to press a soft kiss to pink chapped lips. It was over before it started and Dean pulled back with a gentle smile and handed over the water. He was gratified to see a little spark, a quick flash of lightening in Cas’ turbulent ocean eyes. 

Castiel sucked down half the bottle, nodding his thanks to Dean as he set it down on the table. Dean wanted to reach out to him but wasn’t sure it was the right thing; what if Cas wanted space? So instead, Dean sat quietly and waited.

Finally: “I don’t feel real,” is what fell from Castiel’s lips. “I feel like a story; like some crazy movie of the week. Who even am I?”

_ Fuck space _. Dean reached for Cas’ hand and entwined their fingers as his other hand cupped his face.

“You are Castiel James Novak. You are strong and brave. You're a gifted author, and you write smut like nobody’s business. You’re smart and funny, and caring, and sexy as hell.” Dean’s heart lightened when he saw Cas’ mouth tug up in his little lopsided smile. “Cas, you’re _you. _No matter what name you go by, no matter who she tried to turn you into, you’re still this amazing person with a big heart, who taught me how to finally live again. I love you, Cas, so much,” Dean said fiercely as Castiel’s breath seemed to hitch at the words. “And I’m gonna be here with you every step of the way, you hear me? Whatever you need to get through this, I’m here. And if you feel like I’m too close, then we’ll get you a counselor. Whatever you want, on your terms, I promise.“

Castiel closed his eyes, leaning forward to press his brow to Dean’s. “Thank you.” It was a whiskey-soaked whisper, vulnerable and raw. He longed to hold Cas longer, but the man pulled back and eyed the boxes against the wall. 

“May as well get this part over with,” Castiel said with a nod towards the cardboard. Dean shushed Cas when he started to get up, leaving the couch to grab the boxes and brought them over to the coffee table.

The first box contained paperback novels, a hospital bracelet that said, Emmanuel James Milton, and a photo album with a cover photo of a pretty redhead holding a sweet-faced toddler with dark hair and eyes, both of them being embraced from behind by a strikingly handsome man with a wicked grin.

“They were a handsome family,” Castiel said quietly, placing the album back in the box. He didn’t appear to want to open it and Dean couldn’t blame him. What a trip to see a picture of the poor child you unknowingly replaced?

The next box was smaller, this one had a handful of pictures of Castiel and what looked like some letters. Castiel picked one up and Dean watched as his eyes grew glassy while he read. Castiel’s hand shook as he passed the aged parchment over to Dean. There was no beginning or end to the letter, just disjointed thoughts and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if this was Anna’s version of a diary; just snippets of guilt purging.

Dean read out loud:_ “I asked you when your birthday was and you whispered September 18th and I cried. I cried because the day that I stole you was my Emmanuel’s birthday and it seemed like fate. You both have a biblical name, you shared your month of birth. It felt like God giving me a sign. So my son’s birth certificate became yours.” _

Dean felt bile rising in his throat as he looked at Castiel in horror. Blue eyes expressing the same distress caught his before he rummaged in the box again.

Castiel picked up another sheet of paper and this time he read.

_ “You’re forgetting more and more every day. I’m relieved. It’s PTSD. Sometimes the guilt from that relief chokes me. But you’re my second chance. God wanted me to have you. Why else would he have brought you to me?” _

“She was so fucked up, Cas. God, she was delusional, “ Dean murmured in incredulity.

_ “You finally stopped screaming for them in your sleep. Mama, Daddy, Dean. Always Dean. I hope we can move forward now, darling boy. My salvation. I love you so.” _Castiel’s voice was bitter and his laugh was a mockery as he suddenly stood up and started pacing angrily.

“I want to confront her. I want to scream at her and ask her what the fuck she was thinking! I want her to pay for ripping my life apart and taking me from my true family without a backward glance and I can’t and — ”

“Shh,” Dean soothed, coming to stand before Castiel and taking his clenched fists into his hands. “Come with me,” Dean said and Castiel scoffed.

“I really don’t think angry sex is going to fix my mood, Dean,” Castiel said darkly, “I’m pretty sure I’d hurt you in this state and I’d never forgive myself if I broke your dick.” Dean couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh only to stop when he realized Castiel was being completely serious. Dean didn’t doubt it, either. He and Castiel were fairly equal strength-wise; it was one of Dean’s favorite things. He loved that they were so evenly matched, physically. The sharp edges, the thick thighs, arms that Dean had no doubt could lift him up and pin him to a wall. It all coalesced into the most sinfully beautiful package that Dean couldn’t wait to worship for the rest of his lifetime; and planned on it. 

But not right now. Right now Castiel was itching for a fight, to let out his aggression and Dean knew how he could help with that.

“Yeah, let’s avoid that. I’m pretty attached to it,” Dean teased. “Now come with me,” he said, tugging at Cas’ hands.

“Where are we going?” it was said with barely contained frustration and Castiel’s continuingly opening and closings fists told Dean he had the right idea.

“The roof.”

Dean could tell Cas was intrigued and laughed when he gaped at him in surprise when Dean opened up the small garden shed and dragged out a free-standing punching bag. He grabbed the gloves from the shelves, not trusting Cas to not damage his hands without them.

“I thought this just had potting soil and whatnot in here,” Castiel said and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Who even says _ whatnot _? The gardening supplies are in here too, but sometimes you just gotta hit things,” Dean said with a wink, before tossing him the gloves. Dean started towards the door and Castiel called after him.

“You’re not going to stay and watch?” he asked, no censure in his voice, only curiosity and Dean smiled, softly.

“I’ll stay if you want me to but I think right now you need space to process. I’ll be just inside waiting for you.” Dean watched Castiel take in his words before nodding.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel rasped in his gravelly tone and Dean could hear the first punches already being thrown when he closed the door behind him, leaving the latch unlocked. 

* * *

The light-headed feeling from earlier was rapidly returning and Dean almost felt faint as he let himself back into the apartment. Dean distracted himself by going to the fridge and cracking open a hard cider. He sank into a kitchen chair and took a long pull. Dean was surprised to see that his hands were shaking. He’d barely slept the night before, his worry about Cas just too overwhelming and now today, just trying to keep everyone calm, _ especially _ Cas, it was really only now that everything was beginning to hit him. Twenty-nine years and his best friend had finally come home. Dean was scared to believe it was true. He was afraid he was going to wake and the past few months would have all been a dream. Dean couldn’t lose Cas again. He wouldn’t survive it.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat there in the quiet._ Half an hour? Forty minutes? _ His throat felt tight, another swig from his bottle doing nothing to ease the ache. When the sound escaped, he didn’t even recognize it. Not at first. Not until his breathing hitched did he realize the wounded noise was coming from his own throat. Dean finally broke; heaving sobs that had him gripping his own head, hands tugging at his hair painfully. Dean registered the thick, sweat-dampened arms wrapping around him from behind; the rich scent of coffee, cinnamon and mint breaking through and having a nearly immediate calming effect, hysterical weeping slowing to muted whimpers. Dean felt weak. He should be the one offering comfort but in that moment, he allowed it, and soaked in the warmth and safety of Castiel’s embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed, only to be shushed as Castiel whispered soothing words in his ear.

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Castiel’s voice was firm, brooking no argument. He came around the high backed chair and wedged himself between the table and Dean’s knees. Thumbs swept away his tears, gentle fingers lifting Dean’s chin so their eyes could meet. Castiel’s eyes were a fierce sapphire as he studied Dean, no longer dull and weighted and Dean was happy the time on the roof seemed to have helped.

“I don’t know why I’m like this.” Dean scooted back, scrubbing his hands over his face, feeling embarrassed. “This isn’t about me.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. “Of course it’s about you! This didn’t just happen to me, Dean, it happened to all of us. My parents, your parents, Gabriel. My heart breaks for them as well as myself.” Castiel leaned against the table, hands sliding up from Dean’s face and into his hair to comb through the strands. Dean found himself closing his eyes at the gesture, enjoying the feeling as long fingers tenderly massaged his scalp. “But it _ bleeds _ for you, Dean. Our lives were irrevocably changed that day, and if you weren’t feeling overwhelmed, I would be worried. So please, I’m begging you. Do _ not _ apologize to me for this.“

Dean dropped his head to Cas’ stomach, wincing a bit as the motion ripped the man’s fingers from where they were still tangled in his hair. Castiel resettled, his palms gripping Dean’s shoulders.

“Baby, you need sleep,” Castiel murmured and Dean grunted his displeasure at the thought.

“I tried. I tried last night but I couldn’t settle.”

“What did you do? Watch over me all night?” Castiel asked, fondly, and Dean lifted his gaze, green locking on blue. 

“Honestly, yeah. Sleep…” Dean shook his head and just decided to lay it all out. “I’m so afraid I’m going to wake up and none of this will be real. I’ve dreamed of you coming home so many times.” The grief in Dean’s voice was impossible to hide. “Walking into the bakery, like you knew it was where you were supposed to go,” he sighed. “You know, when I first saw you, your eyes killed me. For that split second all I could think was how much you reminded me of Cas. And you were blunt and funny, and so fucking beautiful.” Dean laughed. “I was not expecting you. You changed my life and flipped my world upside down. I definitely did not expect to fall in love. But I did and you’re everything. You are _ everything _ to me. And it just seems like it’s too good to be true; not only are you the love of my life, but you’re _ my Cas _, and I keep waiting for you to disappear.”

Dean was surprised when Castiel pulled him up from the chair. His arms wound around Dean’s neck and he tugged him into a tight embrace. Long seconds later, he pulled back, looking at Dean with such naked affection that his heart skipped in his chest.

“Good things do happen, Dean,” Castiel whispered in the space between their lips, now a hairsbreadth apart. Dean let out of a soft huff of laughter.

“Not in my experience,” he said.

“What’s the matter?” Castiel tilted his head quizzically, in his bird-like fashion. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved,” Castiel said slowly, with sad realization. “From what, my love? Your guilt?”

Dean winced as Castiel managed to hone in on the main crux of the issue.

“You were a child,” Castiel said. His voice was sharp, but his expression was infinitely tender. “I hear your voice in my head now, you know. When I sleep. I hear that little boy's voice screaming my name, and Dean,” Castiel’s voice was thick with emotion, “you did everything you possibly could, okay? You have nothing to feel guilty over. I want that out of your head.” Castiel had to know the words were easier said than done, but Dean nodded anyway.

“Come on,” Castiel said, stepping back and reaching for his hand. “Shower with me and we’ll wash off this day, hmm?” Dean nodded, a small smile escaping at Cas’ arched brow which always seemed to do all manner of things to him.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel had barely observed the gorgeous sunset in front of him when his fist hit the weight bag. It wasn’t as gratifying as it could have been without the gloves, but swollen, bloody knuckles were not conducive to writing and his first draft was nearly finished and ready to be sent off to his editor.

He marveled at how well Dean knew what he needed. Drowning out the emotional stew bubbling in his head, it was just the repetitious smack of the glove to bag and his panting breath that filled the air. He bounced lightly on his feet as he punched: _ 1-2- breathe, 1-2- breathe. _Sweat dripped into Castiel’s eyes and his tee-shirt clung to his chest, but it felt so good to let out his aggression. He wasn’t above a little rough and tumble in the sack to let off steam but this wasn’t just the frustration, it was anger. Castiel was not about to bring that into the bedroom. He refused to take his fury out on Dean, though he knew the man would take it. If there is one thing he had learned in his few months in Salt Meadow Harbour, is that Dean Winchester would do anything for him, even to his own detriment.

Castiel had been having more memory flashes. It was like once the seal had been broken, the shards of his childhood were slipping through the cracks. He was filled with both warmth and sadness, which was confusing all on its own. To be both ecstatic for discovering there was a genuine reason for why he’d always felt out of place, to being devastated at being so betrayed, was exhausting. Castiel had a Dr.’s appointment scheduled at 10:00 a.m. to discuss what could have caused his memory loss. More than likely PTSD, but Castiel would feel better having some tests done, just in case there was any brain injury he wasn’t aware of. He couldn’t imagine escaping this clusterfuck without some kind of therapy, either.

As the sunset sank into the sea, Castiel had felt lighter, albeit a little sore and a lot sweaty. He’d removed the gloves and flexed his fingers, then quickly locked up them up in the shed before heading back into the apartment, where he’d found Dean, shoulders shaking as harsh sobs wracked his body.

Castiel didn’t hesitate to go to him, standing behind Dean’s chair and draping himself over the back of his shoulders. Dean whispered a broken apology and Castiel shushed him, gently.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Castiel murmured into Dean’s ear before coming round to stand between his legs and the table. He tilted Dean’s chin up and brushed away the tears clinging to his lashes and beneath his forest eyes.

He watched as a blush crawled up Dean’s cheeks as he hastily scrubbed at his face. “I don’t know why I’m like this. This isn’t about me,” Dean said as though ashamed and Castiel felt a surge of protectiveness as Dean downplayed his own trauma.

“Of course it’s about you!” Castiel said, firm and rough. “ This didn’t just happen to me, Dean, it happened to all of us. My parents, your parents, Gabriel. My heart breaks for them as well as myself,” Castiel dragged his fingers from Dean’s face to his hair, massaging his head. “But it _ bleeds _ for you, Dean. Our lives were irrevocably changed that day, and if you weren’t feeling overwhelmed, I would be worried. So please, I’m begging you. Do _ not _ apologize to me for this.“

Dean dropped his head to Castiel’s stomach and he looked down at him in concern. Castiel’s hands squeezed Dean’s shoulders. 

“Baby, you need sleep,” Castiel said quietly, grinning slightly at Dean’s grunt of annoyance. 

“I tried. I tried last night, but I couldn’t settle.”

“What did you do, watch me all night?” Castiel asked softly and Dean lifted his face, a little ruddy from crying and exaggerating his golden freckles.

What followed was a deluge of emotion that brought tears to Castiel’s eyes, as he listened to Dean’s words laced with grief.

“Honestly, yeah. Sleep… I’m so afraid I’m going to wake up, and none of this will’ve happened. I’ve dreamed of you coming home so many times, walking into the bakery, like you knew it was where you were supposed to go,” he sighed, a thready sound that fisted around Castiel’s heart. “ You know, when I first saw you, your eyes killed me. For that split second all I could think was how much you reminded me of Cas. And you were blunt and funny, and so fucking beautiful,” Dean said with a laugh. “I was not expecting you. You changed my life, and flipped my world upside down. I definitely did not expect to fall in love. But I did, and you’re everything. You are _ everything _ to me,” Castiel felt the words as though they were drawn into his skin, “ And it just seems like it’s too good to be true; not only are you the love of my life, but you’re _ my Cas _, and I keep waiting for you to disappear.”

Castiel couldn’t help himself from pulling Dean up from the chair and locking him in a tight embrace. He breathed in sandalwood and vanilla and didn’t let go for a long time. When Castiel drew back, it was slowly, his love for Dean near to bursting in his chest as he studied his pretty face. Tipping his head forward so that their lips were nearly touching he whispered:

“Good things do happen, Dean.”

A small puff of air brushed his lips when Dean laughed in disbelief.

“Not in my experience.” 

“What’s the matter?” Castiel cocked his head, observing the unspoken self-blame in Dean’s voice that was almost palpable. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved,” Castiel realized, dejectedly. “By what, my love? From your guilt?”

The way Dean’s gaze shot to his, told Castiel he’d guessed correctly.

“You were a child,” Castiel said sharply, though his eyes for Dean were soft. “ I hear your voice in my head now, you know. When I sleep. I hear that little boy's voice screaming my name, and Dean,” Castiel struggled to maintain his composure, “you did everything you possibly could, okay? You have nothing to feel guilty over, I want that out of your head. Come on,” Castiel stepped back and grasped Dean’s hand, entwining their fingers. “ Shower with me and we’ll wash off this day, hmm?” he said with an arched brow that always made Dean’s eyes glint with possibilities.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

* * *

They stood under the heat of the shower, gentle hands washing each other with suds of sandalwood body wash. It wasn’t sexual, just tender; an intimacy born of love and relief and the promise Castiel had made, that _ good things do happen _, despite both of their experience. No words were spoken as strong fingers massaged scalps with cheap 2-in-1 Pert Plus.

Stepping out of the shower Castiel handed Dean a towel and they took turns drying each other off. Castiel took Dean by the hand until they stood in front of the bed. Like magnets, they came together, one of Dean’s hands settled on Castiel’s waist, the other fisted in his hair. Castiel cupped the back of Dean’s neck while their mouths finally sought one another out. A breathy sigh came from him, Dean, or both, as their lips slotted together. Castiel urged Dean back until his gorgeous bowed legs hit the mattress and he tumbled back with a soft huff of laughter.  
  
Dean’s eyes were open wide, gleaming in the evening twilight and the feeling was heady for Castiel. He angled down for another kiss and was lost in the lushness of Dean’s mouth. Dean fisted his hands in Castiel’s shower-damp hair, gently holding him in place. The kiss was deep, and dark, and languorous; continuing to the point where neither of them could breathe without moaning. When they finally pulled back, Dean laughed softly. Castiel arched a brow in question. Dean feathered his fingers through Cas’ hair. 

“Nothin’. Just kills me, how beautiful you are,” Dean said, matter of factly. 

“Even when you turn my hair into a fucking birds nest,” Castiel teased and Dean gave a bark of laughter. 

“Dark and messy is a good look on you, sunshine, what can I say?” Dean asked with adoration in his eyes and Castiel’s heart clenched as he fought to not to drown in their green and gold depths. 

So, instead, he reached into the bedside table drawer and drew out a bottle of lube. Castiel crawled forward until he was on his knees straddling Dean. Dean, knees raised, planted his feet solidly on the mattress and ran his hands teasingly up and down Castiel’s thick thighs, scratching at the fine dusting of hair. With a wink, Castiel coated his own fingers and began to work himself open. Castiel widened his stance, head falling back as he breached his own rim, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth.

Dean thumbed distractedly at Castiel’s hip bones as he shifted restlessly beneath him. He sat up and pulled Castiel’s mouth to his as Castiel continued to work himself open. Castiel sank into the kiss, hissing when Dean plucked at his sensitive nipples. Dean replaced his fingers with his tongue, tugging on the stiffened peaks with his teeth and Castiel’s head fell back with a cry of pleasure, his own fingers and Dean’s mouth sending sparks throughout his body.

When he finally sank down on Dean’s cock, they both let out deep moans of gratitude. Castiel rocked softly, arms anchored around Dean’s shoulders while he claimed his lips in a needy kiss. The intensity built between them, gathering like a wave; Castiel’s hips undulating with the same rhythm as his tongue, matching Dean stroke for stroke. 

Dean’s fingers raked through his hair and Castiel growled when Dean tugged on the strands. A guttural cry escaped when Dean thrust up from underneath him, grazing Castiel’s prostate. He arched, chasing the feeling and panting when he found the right angle. Dean gripped his ass hard enough to bruise as he continued to nail that spot inside of Castiel with each lift of his hips. 

It was intense and intimate, the push and pull between their bodies, between their mouths as they faced each other, lips brushing tremulously. Muscles quivered as Dean moved within him and Castiel ground down, his cock aching where it dripped between their stomachs. Dean clutched him closer and the sheer look of awe on his stunning face coupled with the friction on his dick was all it took for Castiel to crest and break like swells against the shore as he came with a high-pitched whine.

Dean’s fingers grasped at Castiel’s skin as his own release took him as he shuddered and stilled, gasping a litany of, “_ Cas, Cas, Cas _.” They shifted sideways, still connected. Castiel could feel Dean’s still pulsating cock between his cheeks, come starting to leak out of his hole. It should have felt dirty but Castiel loved the feeling and Dean seemed in no hurry to disentangle himself from their sweat-dampened embrace.

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of their harsh breathing and the pattern of moonlight on their skin. 

“Is this really not odd for you?” The question slipped out unbidden and by the furrow of Dean’s brow, the man had no idea what Castiel was talking about. “I mean, your last memory of me is of a little kid, and here we are.” Castiel gestured to their naked, sated forms. “What if you only love me because I’m Cas?” Castiel challenged, not really knowing why he was pushing it. He had no reason to doubt Dean’s devotion.

“I have a summer’s worth of memories of you, Cas,” Dean said tenderly. “I didn’t start finally living, I didn’t fall in love for the first time in my life, because you’re Cas. I told you, you’re still you, whatever the hell your name is.” Dean’s thumb swept over Castiel’s cheekbone. “Finding out you’re Castiel doesn’t negate your life as Jimmy, sweetheart.”

Castiel swallowed past the lump in his throat at Dean’s statement, not realizing quite how much he needed to hear it until the words were spoken out loud.

“You move me, Dean. If you could… if you knew how I would move heaven and earth just to keep this feeling alive inside of me forever.” The realization wrapped around his heart strong enough to burst. “I just love you,” that _ was _ the crux of it.

“Love you too, Cas.” Dean’s voice was gruff with emotion before burying his face in Castiel’s neck, warm breath damp against his skin. Castiel sank further into Dean’s embrace, the thought of showering flitted briefly in his mind but despite it being before 9:00 p.m., he found himself drifting off to sleep.

He dreamt of chocolate banana cake and a pirate ship. He dreamt of running breathlessly, laughing, as a grand escape plan was successful and he was suspended in the air, then plummeting down, down, only to swing all the way up again, over and over until the great ship slowed to a stop. He dreamt of walking hand and hand with his best friend only to be ripped away as he screamed Dean’s name over and over. He dreamt of a hand pressed over his mouth and he couldn’t catch his breath. 

Castiel woke with a gasp. He blinked unseeingly in the dark room, the only illumination a pale swathe of moonlight crossing the floor. He registered the warm weight of Dean’s arm slung around his waist but his face was turned the other way. His soft snores quietly filled the room, having a calming effect on Castiel as his heart rate began to settle.

He remembered his kidnapping and everything leading up to it that day, not just fractured moments and crying for Dean. He remembered, yet, as traumatic as the memory was, he was happy to have it. It felt almost like a tether to his former life. It wasn’t just images, now. It wasn’t just a confirmed fingerprint. He was Castiel James Novak and he had found his way home.

* * *

When Cas woke again, it was alone, but not long enough for the bedsheets to have fully cooled. He groaned and stretched his body, fingertips to toes. It was shy of dawn but he could smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Castiel scratched his fingers through his hair as he yawned hard enough to crack his jaw and got out of the bed. If Dean was already making coffee, he’d no doubt showered already as well. Castiel’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw that the glass was still steamed and wet. Castiel relieved himself and started up the shower, washing away dried flaky cum from his ass and thighs. He hummed to himself, relishing in the clarity of his mind. Castiel took the extra time to shave, stubble having reached itchy lengths. He felt nothing but tranquil as he dressed, pulling on a pair of soft jeans and a tee-shirt, enjoying the quiet happiness. He wondered how long until it began to taper off, real-life stress bound to crop up sooner or later, and decided not to worry about that for now.

Dean made quite a picture standing in front of the kitchen window. Dawn was just breaking and sunlight flowed in catching the amber highlights in Dean’s hair on fire, his freckles illuminated under the soft glow. A wave of love rolled through him and Castiel swallowed past the lump in his throat as he wrapped his arms around Dean from behind. He kissed Dean’s shoulder and then casually asked him if he would make him another cake for his birthday this year. Dean tensed before letting out a soft huff of laughter, putting down his coffee mug on the counter as he leaned back into Castiel’s embrace, arms coming up to cover his.

“Obviously,” Dean answered, trying to affect a casual tone. “ Until then, how about chocolate banana pancakes for dinner?” Dean asked, turning in Castiel’s arms and smiling at him sweetly.

“You want breakfast for dinner?” Castiel arched a brow.

“Everyone likes breakfast for dinner, Cas,” Dean deadpanned and Castiel’s eyes closed as a similar conversation floated through his mind.

_ “If breakfast for lunch is called brunch, whattya call breakfast for dinner?” Dean asked, before taking a big gulp of orange juice, leaving a wet yellowish ring around his mouth. _

_ Mary Winchester sighed, fondly, tossing Dean a napkin as Castiel snickered. “Dean, we are not having breakfast for dinner. That’s only on special occasions.” _

_ “I don’t like breakfast for dinner, anyway, Dean,” Castiel said, licking peanut butter from his thumb where it had gone all melty on his English muffin. Castiel liked how Dean’s mom always splurged on the Thomas’ brand. It had better nooks and crannies. _

_ “You better be joking, Cas. Everybody likes breakfast for dinner. Brinner. That’s what we’ll call it. And it is a special occasion, Mom. It’s the last week of summer vacation. We could make chocolate chip banana pancakes,” Dean said excitedly. Sam’s ears perked up from his cereal at the word pancakes and suddenly, breakfast for dinner did sound like a great idea. _

_ Castiel grinned widely because he knew Mary as well as his own mother and she stood no chance at the wide smiles shining at her from the three children staring at her from the breakfast table. John was absolutely no help considering he shared Dean’s love of sweets and bacon. _

Dean’s palms on his cheeks shook him back to the present. Castiel gave a reassuring smile and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

Dean had to get to work but he took a moment for a lingering kiss and made Castiel promise to call him after his appointment.

“And, Gabriel said if you’re up to it, he’d like to come over for lunch, bring you some pictures, maybe show you some home movies,” Dean said on the way down the stairs. 

“That actually sounds wonderful. I’ll text him.”

“If you need anything,” Dean started, almost coming back up the stairs, Castiel’s laugh stopping him in his stride.

“I’m fine, I promise. Go, before you’re stuck listening to Taylor Swift,” Castiel teased.

It was still early, so Castiel wasted time before his doctor's appointment doing laundry and vacuuming the apartment. He ate a bowl of Crunch Berries in front of the news before more of Trump's asinine comments made him switch to a documentary on bees called _ More Than Honey. _

His appointment with Dr. Cain went about as well as he expected. His scans showed no head trauma and suggested Castiel’s memory loss was more than likely due to PTSD and recommended counseling. Dr. Cain offered to get him in touch with a hypnotherapist as well but Castiel opted out. With new memories surfacing every day, Castiel hoped being around Dean and his friends and family would be enough to keep progressing. For now, he was happy to make new memories. He did agree to look into therapy. No matter how okay he felt in this moment, it was naive to think he wouldn’t have bad days and need the unbiased ear of someone not connected to him personally.

Castiel took a walk down the boardwalk after his doctor's appointment, stopping at Thai Garden to grab a couple of pad thai lunch specials for him and Gabriel, having already texted his cousin with a request for a six-pack of _ Yuengling _.

When Gabriel showed up at the door sporting the beer in one hand and a photo album and a DVD case in the other, Castiel ushered him inside.

“Thanks for coming,” Castiel said, feeling a little awkward, but eager to get to know this man who was once like his brother.

“Anytime, Cassie. Thanks for the grub,” Gabriel said with a sunny smile, passing Castiel a cold bottle of beer. He reciprocated with a carton of noodles and a plastic fork, nodding towards the living room where the television was airing a marathon of _ Ghost Hunters _.

“Aunt Becky had our home movies converted to DVD. I brought it with me in case you wanted to check it out. Maybe it’ll, I don’t know, jog something. Pictures too,” Gabriel said around a mouthful of noodles and Castiel nodded eagerly.

“I would love to see them,” Castiel said, digging into his own lunch. “I’ve been having more and more memory flashes,” he told Gabriel, taking a swig of his lager.

“Oh yeah? Any of me?” Gabriel’s tone was hopeful and made Castiel smile.

“As a matter of fact. Whatever happened to Rowena?”

Gabriel’s laugh echoed in the room and warmed his heart, and Castiel settled back against the couch cushions to listen to his cousin talk.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean stretched in his bed, head feeling a little cloudy. His mouth tasted furry and all kinds of wrong. He recognized the signs of a night where mistakes were made. He was sad to find his side of the bed empty but he could hear Cas and Meg talking from the living room where he remembered her and Sam crashing the night before. Charlie had stolen the guest room before Sam and his new girlfriend could nab it. _ Ah, yes, it was all coming back to him_, Dean snorted as he took a piss then brushed his teeth. Charlie may have been a little bit bitter about losing the girl of her dreams to Dean's brother.

Dean and Castiel had expected the week to be excruciatingly slow and they weren’t disappointed. He and Cas were both on edge from not being able to speak to their parents about everything, but everyone had reassured him that they were right to wait. He couldn’t imagine telling Becky that Cas had come home through Skype, only to make her wait, feeling trapped on a ship.

So, they kept busy. They spent a lot of time going through pictures and watching the home videos that Gabriel had brought over. They visited an Apiary that Cas fell in love with. One night they went bowling and just yesterday they’d had a beautiful day at Salt Harbor Beach with Sam, Charlie, Lisa, and Benny; Meg and Gabriel were unfortunately stuck at work. 

They made love whenever they had the chance and could barely keep from being in some kind of contact, or at the very least being in the same room. At the beginning of the week Castiel changed things up and he and his laptop moved from the dining area to the kitchen. 

_ “I’m glad you’re back here. I couldn’t see you for awhile,” Dean teased. “I got a little nervous.” _

_ “It was hard,” Castiel deadpanned. _

_ “It was,” Dean nodded severely and he could see Cas bite the inside of his cheek, holding back a grin. _

_ “It was like being in the water without a life jacket. Scary.” Castiel said, voice rich and gravelly. _

_ “You guys are such dorks,” Krissy said with an eye roll as she rolled out dough for cinnamon rolls. _

_ Castiel turned to her, eyes wide and imploring. “Just not being able to see him…” He broke when Krissy icily narrowed her eyes at him in the way only a teenager could, laughing loudly and contagious, Dean following suit, pressing a kiss to the top of Cas’ head on his way to the blast chiller. _

“-lucky you didn’t get kicked out for public indecency,” Dean heard Meg say as he left the ensuite.

“Why? Because we were two men making out?” Dean heard Castiel ask irately and Meg’s answering laughter. He saw her smiling heart-shaped face, the rest of her wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, as he came down the short hall from the bedroom and felt a surge of affection for the little firecracker who had always had his back, whether he asked for it or not.

“Ah, yeah. No Clarence.” Meg shuffled around, finally digging her hands into the couch cushions to pull out her cell phone. She appeared to open something and then tossed the phone to Cas, which he nearly fumbled, no doubt thanks to his hangover addled brain.

“Yo, where’s Sam?” Dean asked amidst a jaw cracking yawn as he headed straight for the kitchen and the coffee pot, only to find a tray of coffees, names in sharpie on the cups and pastries he recognized from his own bakery.

Meg scowled from the couch but there was no heat behind it. “Nerd brought us breakfast from downstairs then went for his morning jog.” She said the word as if the very thought was abhorrent, though her expression was fond and Dean laughed.

“Overachiever,” Dean said in solidarity but in reality feeling nothing but thankful for his thoughtful brother. “Hey Cas, whatcha watching?” he said, passing out everyone’s coffee before hooking his chin over Cas’ shoulder to see what he was looking at, then snorted as more memories from the night before flashed in his mind.

In the video Meg could be heard cackling as Sam urged them to _ stop making a spectacle, guys _. And what a spectacle it was. 

After the beach, they had gone to _ The Mermaid Bar _ on the north end of the boardwalk to grab some dinner, shoot some pool, and try and relax; Gabriel and Meg having met up with them after work. Dean remembered them doing a lot of shots and he’d been enchanted to see Cas let loose, his smile dopey and lopsided, eyes crinkling from laughter as Dean tried to distract him from making his shot by flirting with him using horrific pick-up lines.

Dean started chuckling when he remembered one particular moment when he had come up behind Castiel as he was adjusting his shot and whispered in his ear: _ Are you a campfire? Because you’re hot and I want s’more. _ Cas had doubled over with laughter, nearly impaling Dean with his cue stick. Later, when they’d moved onto darts it was: _ Hey Cas, if you were a Transformer, you’d be Optimus Fine. _ Then even later, when alcohol made them think they could actually dance: _ Baby, are you covered in bees? Cuz you’re sweeter than honey. _

But in the video that Castiel was now watching with a look of horrified embarrassment on his face, Dean was placing full blame on his boyfriend. Honestly, what was Dean supposed to do besides straddle Cas’ lap in a crowded bar and grind on him? Especially when he’d been sitting sprawled in a chair, eyebrow cocked, cheekily inviting Dean over with his voice like liquid smoke?

_ “Come on over here, Dean. Feel my shirt.” Castiel dragged his hand down his tee-shirt enticingly, then held out a hand so Dean could be pulled onto strong thick thighs. Castiel licked his lips wickedly, eyes narrowed on him as Dean’s hands slid up and down the soft grey material. “See? It’s made of boyfriend material." _

_ Dean paid no attention to Gabriel’s snort of laughter as he was too drunk, too charmed, and way too turned on by his lover's dom brow to do anything more than fist his hands in Cas’ hair and slot their mouths together. _

Dean and Castiel watched themselves in the video, kisses getting sloppier and wetter and the pornographic sounds escaping their lips as Video-Dean gave Video-Cas essentially the dirtiest clothed lap dance in history. Video-Dean rocked in deep figure eights on Video-Cas’ lap, while Video-Cas slipped his hands under Video-Dean’s shirt, dragging his blunt nails up and down his spine. Dean swore he could still feel it as he watched.

They watched as a waitress tried to approach them and asked them to be more discreet. Video-Dean’s mouth pulled from Video-Cas’ with an obscene suctioning sound and glared at the poor woman just trying to do her job and prevent indecent exposure. Video-Sam apologized, as did Gabriel, though it was made less sincere by his guffawing. As they dragged Video-Dean and Video-Castiel out of the chair and tossed what Dean was sure was a generous tip on the table, the sound of Video-Meg and Video-Charlie snickering could be heard as well as Video-Benny’s drawling voice say _ Sorry sugar, you never had a chance _followed by Video-Lisa laughing uproariously in response.

_ Say goodnight, horndogs, _ Video _ \- _Meg’s voice came through the screen and Dean laughed as onscreen he and Video-Castiel stumbled down the boardwalk, hands in each other’s back pockets, each giving the one-fingered salute over their shoulders.

Dean turned to Castiel and painted a mock sappy expression on his face. “How could they blame me,” he began dramatically, “your eyes are so blue it’s like I’m lost at sea.” Dean held back the laugh as Castiel had to school his expression before replying.

“I truly understand. I mean, if you were a burger at McDonald’s, you’d be The McGorgeous.”

“Stahhhhhp,” came a muffled, pained voice from the guest room. “No more annoying pick-up lines,” Charlie whined. 

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be able to annoy people with you again,” Dean grinned. 

Castiel cupped his face, smiling so wide, before pressing a tender kiss to Dean’s lips.

“Same.”

* * *

When Dean’s mother returned to the Mainland on Friday the first thing she did was check in with her boys. Dean had been waiting for the call with a nervous stomach.

“Hey, Mom. How was the cruise?” It was past his shift and Dean was stress baking. He’d made tarts, four pies and was now switching to savory with chicken pot pie to reheat later for dinner. Castiel had gone with Gabriel to the Town Hall that morning to fill out the registration and inspection forms for the honeybees Castiel wanted to keep on the rooftop garden. There was no need for a state permit to keep bees in Massachusetts, but the town required one, especially since they would be housed above a business.

“Amazing! I can’t wait to show you pictures. When we’re home and settled, we’ll have you boys over for dinner. Maybe bring along this special someone I had to learn about through email.” The words were teasing and Dean had to fight back a hysterical burst of laughter. _ Jesus Christ. Find your chill, Winchester. _

“Yeah, well, about that. Sammy is picking y’all up at the airport tomorrow and I know you probably want to wind down after your flight but it’s kinda really important that we see you tomorrow. All of you. Gabe, C-my boyfriend and I, we’ll have dinner waiting for you.”

“Dean?” Mary’s voice was concerned and he sighed.

“Mom, it’s really important,” Dean stressed again, laying parchment paper and dried beans in lieu of pie weights in the pie tin to par-bake the crust.

“Oh my God, Dean, did you get married?” The question was shrieked and Dean winced, pulling the phone back from his ear.

“No Mom, I didn’t get married yet.” Dean rolled his eyes when Meg snickered at him over a tray of snickerdoodles on her way out of the kitchen.

“Yet? So it’s something you’re thinking about? Who is this man, honey? The summer has flown by and you sound so… different.”

Dean paused, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he stripped a pre-roasted chicken he’d picked up at _ Market Basket _ into a pan of gravy and seasoned vegetables.

“Different how?”

“Happy.” It was said simply and Dean felt the ache in his chest ease.

“I am happy,” Dean reassured his mother as he set his pan to simmer. He glanced at the clock. 2:30. He’d been at the bakery since five in the morning and he was ready for a nap. “Just, please let us come over tomorrow. We’ll do a backyard barbecue. Tell Becky I’ll bring her Sangria.”

“Okay, Dean. It’s no problem, honey. It’s obviously really important to you. I’m sure we can be awake enough for some burgers and hotdogs.”

“Thanks, Mom, see you tomorrow. Tell everyone else who was too busy to talk to me that I love them,” Dean teased.

“Your Dad’s in the hotel pool and Becky and Chuck are _ napping _ .” it was said in such a way as to imply that they were implicitly _ not _sleeping and Dean cringed.

“Gross, mom, they’re like my other parents,” he whined, then had to bite back a gasp when strong arms wrapped around him from behind. “Talk to you later, Mom.” Dean ended the call and put his phone back in his apron pocket.

“What was all that about?” Dean shivered as Castiel’s husky voice murmured into his ear before he dropped a kiss on Dean’s shoulder.

“My dad’s swimming and your parents are having sex,” Dean said flatly.

Dean felt Castiel lightly bang his head between Dean’s shoulder blades.

“Really, Dean?” The tone was pained exasperation and Dean laughed.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’, then turning in Castiel’s arms. He met wild blue eyes and took a second to drink his fill. Wide, pink lips, that were always chapped yet achingly soft. A strong nose, stubbled cheekbones, and dark, messy hair that was still like silk to the touch. Castiel seemed to be observing him right back, soft smile playing about his lips as he tilted his head fondly.

“I am never going to get used to how you look at me,” Castiel confessed between them and Dean smiled, happy that the fact that Cas was Dean’s world seemed to translate through his expression.

“I told mom we’d be there tomorrow. Break open the grill, liquor everyone up, should be fine,” Dean joked, grateful when Castiel chuckled.

“Yo, Dean-o,” Gabriel called as he pushed through the door. “What are you still doing here?” As if on cue, the oven timer went off and Dean went over to remove the pie crust and set it down to add the chicken pot pie filling he had on the stove.

“Couldn’t relax so I made some more of those blueberry-lemon tarts that are going like crazy, and a couple of pies for tomorrow, and tonight’s dinner,” Dean gestured down to the steaming pie pan as he rolled out the top crust.

“Because over eight hours of straight baking wasn’t enough to chill you out? I told you, you need weed,” Gabriel said and Castiel laughed.

“You know what happens when I smoke that stuff, Gabe,” Dean had gained nearly ten pounds when Gabriel had started home-growing his own plants, the munchies making it entirely too easy for Dean to sample too many of his own products.

“That’s because you don’t know how to do anything in moderation,” Gabriel laughed and Dean couldn’t refute it. 

“Hey, when I want a drink, I drink. When I want sex, I go get it. The same goes for a sandwich or pie, dude. You guys get what we need to start making our own honey?”

“It’s more complicated than that, but yes,” Gabriel said. “We are officially backyard beekeepers.”

“The actual term is _ Urban _ ,” Castiel teased. “Sounds better. We have to wait for spring and choose what kind of hive. I think we should start with screen-box hives. You can order them with the bees all packaged. Eventually, it would be cool to catch a swarm, but…” Castiel trailed off and Dean had visions of himself running through the trees and dunking in a mud puddle _ Winnie the Pooh _style as bees buzzed above his head and shuddered.

“Yeah, that’s all you, sunshine,” Dean assured his boyfriend, Gabriel emphatically nodding in agreement.

Dean’s stomach growled as he pulled the chicken pot pie out of the oven to cool, the rich scent of gravy reminding him that aside from a few cups of coffee and a french cruller, he hadn’t eaten today. So much for waiting till dinner.

“Late lunch?” Dean offered hopefully, heart filling with affection when he realized that Castiel was already grabbing plates and forks.

“Let’s call it Linner,” Castiel said sagely and Dean huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss to Cas’ temple.


	15. Chapter 15

When Castiel awoke on Saturday morning he was oddly calm. Despite the impending monumental reunion, he felt good. He turned his head and watched as the sunlight made patterns across Dean’s freckled back. Ah, yes, his main reason for feeling so at peace was snoring softly on the pillow next to him.

Last night, Dean had been… _ hungry _. He’d worshipped and feasted on Castiel’s body like he was the most decadent dessert. The way he’d nibbled at his hip bones and laved his nipples. The way he’d kissed his neck, his lips, delving into his mouth as though sipping ambrosia. And when he had tongued him open, fucking into his hole with the same fervor as he did his mouth, Castiel had writhed on the bed like a wild animal.

Castiel felt himself plumping beneath the sheets as he thought about it. His body was achy and sated and still, he wanted. Cas lightly stroked himself for a moment before rolling over to press kisses to Dean’s shoulders. Sandalwood and vanilla clouded his senses as the man beneath him stirred, eyes blinking open owlishly. Castiel blanketed himself over Dean’s back and the flushed head of his cock dragged against his skin.

Dean smiled at him lazily from over his shoulder, adjusting onto his hands and knees wordlessly, dropping down onto his forearms, an open invitation for Cas to do as he wished. So he did. He tasted miles of smooth skin, bit at firm cheeks, and licked at a Dean’s delightfully furled asshole.

Bathed in golden sunbeams, Castiel slid over warm, toned muscle, pausing to suck a bruise into Dean’s neck before whispering, “Roll onto your side, love.” Voice gritty with need. Dean’s back pressed to Castiel’s chest. They lost contact for a moment when he leaned back to grab the lube from the nightstand.

Castiel hitched Dean’s leg over his own, slicking up his fingers up generously and began to languorously finger him open. Castiel mouthed hungrily at the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder as he slipped another digit inside, scissoring gently. He knew Dean could take him now with just a slight burn, but he didn't let that rush him. Castiel used his free hand to feather through Dean’s hair, urging him to tilt his head back so he could angle down for a soft kiss. Dean’s breath was thready against Castiel’s lips as he stretched him, a quiet gasp escaping when Castiel crooked his fingers just right. When Castiel slipped them out, Dean’s pucker fluttered, clenching around nothing. Dean let out a high-pitched groan when Castiel dragged the leaking head of his cock over his gaping hole. Sliding between Dean’s cheeks, Castiel rut against his entrance again and again until Dean was a whimpering mess.

“Please, Cas,” Dean begged, arching back, trying to catch the head of Castiel’s dick on his rim.

Castiel propped himself up on one arm, inching back just a bit to lube up and guide the flushed head of his cock to Dean’s pink, puffy entrance. Castiel sank in with a guttural moan, cock gripped hot and tight. His forehead pressed to Dean’s nape as he clenched his eyes tight, breath hissing out as he fought for control to not start blindly thrusting. Dean relaxed back against him with a sigh. Castiel began to rock into Dean gently, the slow drag of his dick against Dean’s rim creating delicious friction. Castiel reached around his lover's waist and curled his fingers still slick with lube, around Dean’s cock, making a tunnel with his fist for the thick, silken heat of him to push into. Castiel eased back, then fucked into Dean faster, angling his hips and brushing against his prostate. 

Dean’s arm reached back, fisting into Castiel’s hair as he tugged. Castiel took the hint, leaning down again to claim Dean’s mouth in a filthy kiss that was more tongue than anything else. Slotted against each other, Castiel felt complete; at home, and the feeling of being so in sync physically and emotionally brought tears to his eyes.

Sunlight now poured through the blinds giving Dean an ethereal glow and Castiel wanted to burn the sight and sound of their sweat-damped skin sliding together in his memory forever. _ Oh _, this feeling of being one, of being so utterly connected, had him nearly seeing stars.

Dean began pushing back, fucking hard onto Castiel’s cock and up into his fist. Castiel hitched Dean’s leg higher and tighter against him so he could grind in deeper.

“Fuck, Dean,” Castiel keened, feeling wrecked, body hot and tight and cresting towards release but he wanted Dean to get there first. He tightened his grip on Dean’s cock and stroked faster, his hips following suit as he pistoned into Dean, the spongy head of his member_ tap tap tapping _ firmly against that bundle of nerves inside of him. The mewling gasps that Dean released were becoming one continuous groan of his name. 

_ “CasCasCasCasCasCas,” _Dean chanted rawly, as he locked up against him, his head tilted back on Castiel’s shoulder. Dean's mouth opened on a silent cry as come pulsed out of his cock, hot and thick, dripping over Castiel’s knuckles

“Christ,” Castiel gritted out, tense with the effort of holding himself still as he worked Dean through his orgasm with his pumping fist. Even as Dean went limp, he clenched around Castiel’s cock.

“C’mon, Cas. Take it. Take what you need,” the words, slurred with satisfaction had Castiel growling as he let go and set a punishing pace; deep into Dean’s pliant body, chasing his own completion.

Castiel slanted a messy kiss against Dean’s damp neck, sweat adding an earthy note to his sandalwood and vanilla scent that Castiel licked at greedily. A few rough thrusts later, Castiel grunted harshly and slowed. He pushed in one final time, grinding his hips deep and dirty, and came copiously inside the heated clench of Dean’s phenomenal ass.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Castiel practically prayed, cock still pulsing, buried to the hilt, hot come filling Dean as he clutched the man even tighter to himself as they both panted frantically.

The bedroom was bright and heavy with the scent of ripe sex and Castiel wasn’t sure he could even move. Dean appeared to suffer from the same affliction as he fumbled with the covers one-handedly and dragged them up over their limp bodies, not even attempting to clean up or let Castiel slip loose from his body.

“Shower,” Castiel found himself murmuring, even as he nuzzled into Dean’s sweat-dampened shoulder.

“Later,” came the fucked out reply and Castiel grinned against Dean’s skin as he drifted off.

It was much later when they woke next, hot and sweaty as the midday sun added another layer of heat to the already stifling room. At some point, Castiel’s cock had slipped out of Dean, come dried and flaky on his balls and bush, all tucked up against Dean’s coated ass and thighs. Castiel flexed his hand, also tight with Dean’s own jizz and grimaced.

“We should have showered,” Dean muttered, letting Castiel know he was awake and he chuckled.

“I told you,” Castiel said and Dean snorted.

“Yeah, as you were drifting off to dreamland.” Dean turned on his back and stretched. He raised a brow at the glint in Castiel's eyes as he took in the freckled beauty that was Dean’s body.

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head firmly.

“What?” Castiel asked innocently as though he wasn’t just thinking about tasting Dean’s sleepy sex and sun-warmed body.

“No time. Separate showers then we have to go shopping for barbecue crap.”

“Mmm. Barbecue crap, sounds delicious,” Castiel snarked, then scooted away as Dean pinched him. “Hey!” he yelped and Dean, who’d pulled himself to sitting tipped his head back and laughed. Castiel didn’t fight the urge to surge up and nip at the column of Dean’s throat.

“Damn, I love you,” Dean sighed out and Castiel smiled against his skin, pressing one more kiss to Dean’s Adam’s apple. “We’re gonna get married, right Cas?” Dean turned, suddenly, green eyes wide and imploring, voice laced with need and a slight hint of panic. “When this is all over, I mean. You’re gonna marry me?”

_ You’re going to stay, _ is the hidden question and Castiel’s heart stumbled before steadying, solid, bright, so full of love. He gripped Dean’s face, tugging him forward for a lingering kiss, morning breath be damned.

“Of course I am, Dean. I’m never leaving you again, okay? Never.” The words finished in a whisper as Dean pushed him back into the dirty sheets and if the shower and shopping got pushed back another hour, neither Castiel nor Dean could be bothered to care.

* * *

It was early afternoon when they finally rose and though they did share a shower, Castiel and Dean behaved themselves, for the most part. Hands sluiced down soapy skin under the hot spray but didn’t linger too long, the importance of the day finally messing with Castiel’s nerves a little bit.

He forwent coffee, worried it would upset his stomach, but Dean forced an orange cinnamon roll on him and a cup of tea.

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday,” Dean said over a large mouthful of his own confection; a ridiculously large powdered donut that left a ring of sugar around his mouth and dotted the front of his dark green Henley in white. Castiel gave in, eating the pastry and sipping at the tea, before getting dressed. He heard a knock at the back door as he pulled on one of Dean’s band tees, a pair of black jeans, tugging on socks and shoved his feet into his athletic slides. He could hear Gabriel’s voice as he headed back into the living room.

“Car’s at Singers getting a tune-up, I figured I'd just come with you guys. I already stopped at the store yesterday and grabbed some steak and chicken skewers on sale, plus some sausages and burgers. They’re in the fridge downstairs.”

“Sounds good, we can pick up rolls and liquor on the way to the house.”

Castiel walked in to find Gabriel nodding, lollipop hanging from his mouth as usual. “Yeah, buddy, I’m thinking a case of Sangria and a big bottle of Patron.”

“That sounds dangerous, “ Castiel said gravely, confused when Gabriel only looked at him in abhorrence.

“What?” Castiel demanded, wondering what offense he had committed to warrant such an expression.

"Socks with sandals, Cas?” Gabriel tskked. “You’re an embarrassment to gay men everywhere.”

“My feet get cold, asshole,” Cas said and Dean laughed.

“Since we were kids,” Dean grinned. “I think it’s cute.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. C’mon dorks, we’ve got family drama to start!”

Along with Gabriel’s contribution, and Dean’s pies, a quick stop at the supermarket netted them rolls, buns, fruit and cheese platter, and the makings for S’mores. 

“Do you think this is enough?” Castiel asked as they walked to the adjacent liquor store, stopping to add their purchases to the trunk of the Impala. Gabriel’s guffaw of laughter had him raising a brow.

“Cassie, I’m sure that this is more than enough. In fact, I’m pretty sure that once they find out Dean-o here’s boyfriend-”

“Fiance,” Castiel and Dean said in unison, both catching each other’s gaze and smiling shyly.

“Holy shit,” Gabriel said, before shaking his head and continuing, “Congratulations. Now the only thing they’re gonna be dining on is snot and tears from all the crying.”

“That’s fucking gross, dude,” Dean said and Castiel nodded, holding the door of a liquor store called _ Devereaux’s _ open, a cool air-conditioned breeze washing over him and causing a chill. 

“I concur,” he said with a derisive snort.

“Hey, Frank. You got any of Becky’s favorite Sangria in stock?” Dean called out to the man crouched behind the register. “Frank?”

“Patience, Grasshopper,” came a rough voice from below, tight with exertion. “Just fixing these cameras,” a stocky middle-aged man stood up, salt and pepper hair spiked, and eyes narrowed behind the lenses of wide-framed glasses.

Gabriel let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a scoff as Dean smothered his mouth with his palm, hiding a smile. Castiel cocked his head, confused, bending down to look at the bottom of the faux wood counter, finding small holes, no bigger than the eraser on top of a pencil.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, straightening up and looking at Frank quizzically. “Such camera placement will only show you feet.”

“You know many people hide weapons in their shoes?” the man spouted cantankerously and Castiel glared when Dean and Gabriel just let him flounder because _ technically _ , _ no _ , he did _ not, in fact, _ know the percentage of people with weapon-wielding Nikes there were in your average South Shore package store. “A lot more than the news lets you in on, that’s how fucking much. Just last month some asshole down at The Roadhouse was found concealing a small firearm in her high heel.”

“And it was noticeable?” Castiel asked, glaring at Gabriel when he made the universal sign to _ cut, _ slashing a finger under his neck, even as Dean’s eyes begged him not to engage. 

“It sure as hell was when she took it off and aimed it atter’ husband,” he said and Castiel nodded, trying to let it go.

“So, Frank,” Dean clapped his hands together, “that Sangria?”

Only Castiel couldn’t let it go. 

“If the weapon was only visible because she took it off and used it, what good exactly _ are _ your foot-level cameras going to do unless they are equipped with x-ray vision?”

Dean and Gabriel both groaned. “Fuck this, I’ll find the booze myself,” Gabriel huffed, taking off down an aisle.

“Come check this out, _Curious George_,” Frank gestured for Castiel to come around the counter and look at his set-up. “Dean, stand still for a minute, would ya. You’re dancing around like you got ants in your pants.” Castiel sent Dean an apologetic smile as the man rolled his eyes and stopped fidgeting.

Castiel crouched behind the counter to find and elaborate set-up of cameras, covering every angle of the store; the one he had been questioning in particular, was infrared and clearly showed the inside of Dean’s thick-soled boots.

Castiel found he really couldn’t do anything but hum appreciatively at the high tech equipment.

“Hey, how come you let a stranger see your surveillance, but you didn’t show me until two years ago?”

“Cause I know an Angel of the Lord when I see one,” was all Frank said before disappearing behind his counter again.

“What the fuck,” Castiel whispered out of the corner of his mouth, and Dean coughed to cover his laugh, dragging Castiel to the cooler in the back.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, opening the cooler to pull out a six-pack of _ Aloha Friday, _some new tropical pineapple cider Dean had discovered recently. Castiel smirked, thinking of all the come-related remarks he’d made since Dean started drinking it.

“He calls Gabriel Loki, Sammy a Men of Letters, and me a Hunter. Guys a little obsessed with your dad’s books, thinks his whole Supernatural world is real.”

“Yikes,” Castiel said, following him back to the register where Gabriel was already waiting with a large bottle of Tequila and two-liter bottle of Sangria with a picture of a guitar on it. “That’s a little disturbing. Shouldn’t he get some help?”

“There’s no pill for my situation, sweetie pop,” came a gruff voice from behind him and Castiel nearly jumped, wondering where the fuck he had come from. Frank snickered at Castiel’s startled face as he got behind the register to ring up their purchases.

Castiel was grateful for the afternoon sunshine and salt-water breeze when he stepped outside onto the sidewalk. He shook off the under the microscope vibe he had felt inside and climbed into the comforting familiarity of the Impala. It smelled like Dean plus leather, and it soothed him.

Gabriel sat in the back and Dean laced his fingers with Castiel’s. “You ready for this, Cas?” he asked, voice gently concerned.

Butterflies winged in his chest, but he smiled, happy for their dance around his heart. He nodded, resolutely, even as emotion grabbed him by the throat.

“Yeah. I want to see my Mom, Dean,” his voice broke on the words and he felt Gabriel squeeze his shoulder in support. 

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

It was almost 4:30 when they pulled into the Novak’s driveway. They’d decided to use Chuck and Becky’s backyard so they could make a quick escape if they wanted some time alone with Castiel. Walking through the house had been surreal. The hazy memories of childhood recently regained, grew clearer and brighter with every picture he drank in, every knickknack collecting dust, but most of all, the smell. Fresh laundry and lavender; it hit him like a ton of bricks as memories of helping his mom fold towels and his Dad work out in the garden filled his mind. Of playing video games on the couch with Dean in their matching transformer pajamas.

Again he agonized over how he could have forgotten this? As though he knew Castiel needed it, Dean pulled him into a tight embrace in the middle of the living room, swaying him gently from side to side.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Dean kissed his temple then rested his forehead against Castiel’s. “I’m right here. If anything gets to be too much, you let me know, and I’ll make sure you get space.”

They moved out to the patio and Dean fired up the grill. Sam would be coming back with his parents and the Winchesters anytime after five. Castiel busied himself by putting out cheese and crackers and fruit. Without conscious thought, he went to the pantry and pulled out the paper plates and solo cups he instinctively knew were on the top shelf. The act had a laugh bubbling out of his mouth as he went through the backdoor slider out into the yard.

It was earlier than expected when they heard Sam’s car rumble into the driveway. Immediately, Castiel tensed, Gabriel and Dean moving to flank him. He could hear Sam telling them to just leave their luggage for now and head on into the house.

When Castiel heard his father call out jokingly, “Honey, I’m home,” his knees almost buckled as his heart sang at the thought of _ Daddy _. He sucked in a gasping breath, stepping back a little bit so he would be obscured behind his fiance and his cousin. Dean looked back at him, ready to swoop in, but Castiel held up a hand.

“I’m okay,” his voice was sandpaper. "Just need a second,” Dean furrowed his brow as he studied Castiel to see if he was really alright, before nodding and standing shoulder to shoulder with Gabriel, hiding him from view.

“Dean, honey!” a vaguely familiar voice, light and sweet, called out and Castiel could only assume it was Mary Winchester. “Gabriel, come give me a hug!” Neither of them moved as more voices joined them outside. He heard a chorus of _ Hi, boy _s, and still Dean and Gabriel remained statues.

“Dean, what’s going on?” a gruff voice with a slight twang that reminded him of Dean told Castiel that he was hearing John Winchester. “I can see you got someone behind you. You want to dispense with the cloak and dagger and introduce us?”

Dean and Gabriel turned to look at him and he nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Ooh, the suspense,” and damn if Castiel didn’t chuckle at the sweet sound of his mother’s voice.

Dean scratched the back of his neck, an endearing nervous habit then drew Castiel towards him, he and Gabriel each slipping an arm around his waist in support. Castiel saw Sam standing off to the side, trying to not so discreetly wipe away a tear. The sight actually cheered him and he felt his butterflies settle and quiet. John looked like he could be severe, but his smile was like Dean’s, all charm. Mary was looking at him with an excited, curious expression, but his parents were looking at him in a much deeper fashion; Chuck’s eyes seemed to scan over him as though seeing something familiar, a wistful look on his kind face. When his eyes lit on Castiel’s socks, his face jerked up in surprise and Castiel was amused to see he got his socks and sandals affliction from someone. When Castiel let his gaze rest on his mother, his heart seemed to kick up in rhythm and he sagged back into the weight of Dean and Gabriel.

“You got this, Cassie,” Gabriel murmured softly.

Becky was openly staring at him, a slight woman with the same blonde hair he grew out of. If she had been tan on her vacation, he wouldn’t know, for she was pale as a ghost now, and he watched as her bottom lip seemed to tremble. Castiel saw his mother flit her eyes from him for a moment to linger on Dean. The question in her heavy stare showed she already suspected, but still, she waited for Dean’s tearful nod of affirmation. Becky turned to him once again.

“Castiel?” she whispered, “Baby?”

The startled gasps that surrounded him were nothing but a buzz in his ear when his arms were suddenly full, embracing his mother for the first time in almost thirty years. They sank their knees as she sobbed into his neck.

“I’m home, Mom.”

More arms surrounded them on the thick grass, his Dad not able to wait his turn. Castiel felt like a child again as his hair was stroked and his cheeks were kissed and he was hugged within an inch of his life. When he was finally able to see past his tears and his parent's weepy faces, he saw Sam and Gabriel with their arms slung around each other, grinning wildly. He searched and found Dean. He was holding his mother, his father’s hand on his shoulder, everyone’s eyes drenched, just as Gabriel predicted.

They managed to get up off of the lawn, and questions began to fire. _ How _ ? _ Who took you? Is she dead? Because if she’s not she’s gonna be. Have you been to the police? When did you find out? _

It was overwhelming and Dean, as always, came to his rescue. “Hey, hey, guys. Let’s just give him a chance to breathe. Everyone sit down, we can talk while we eat. Becky, we got you a bottle of Sangria, let us get you a glass,” Dean threw him a wink as everyone seemed to settle down. Sam manned the grill while Castiel sat at the patio table between his parents and quietly answered their questions as best as he could.

“We never gave up hope, you know?” Becky said tremulously. “None of us,” Castiel watched her gaze slide to Dean. “You know, when Mary told us Dean had met someone, and that it was serious, part of me was upset.”

Castiel cocked his head, confused and his mother laughed, ruffling his hair. “I can’t believe you still do that. My inquisitive little bird. Dean and I, we have a special relationship. He’s honestly just as much mine and your father’s as he is Mary and John’s. He helped me grieve, he celebrated your birthday with me every year no matter how painful. Having someone taken from you like that, with no answers? No closure? There’s no pain like that.”

“No one can understand unless they live it,” his father added. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you would be upset about Dean finally entering a relationship?” he queried and he was actually charmed to see his mother blush.

“Dean was always waiting for you to come home, to find your way back, just like I was. It was like even though you were only children, you had this, what did you call it, honey?” Becky asked her husband.

“A profound bond,” Chuck said and Castiel was amazed at their similar thinking.

“Right. I don’t know, I guess it just felt like maybe Dean was letting go? Which is completely selfish and I regretted the thought as soon as I had it,” Becky rushed to explain. “I was just worried that if he was really moving on, then maybe he had given up on you. I know you were just little kids, it wasn’t like you were childhood sweethearts, but I guess in my mind, over the years, I kind of just imagined if we got you back, you’d wind up with Dean.”

Castiel thought it was a little weird, but sweet, and it’s not like that wasn’t exactly what had happened.

“We’re getting married, by the way,” Castiel told them, not able to contain his wide smile. “We haven’t gotten rings yet, but I just… I guess I just wanted you to know. No one else does, except Gabriel.”

Castiel found himself dragged into another rib-cracking hug from his parents, laughing into his mother’s lavender-scented hair when from across the yard he heard his fiance yell as his mother launched herself at him, nearly knocking him into the horseshoe pit they were playing on.

“You’re getting married!” Mary shrieked, and Castiel watched as Dean was surrounded by his family, offering congratulations, tears of happiness filling the backyard. Though Castiel knew there would be more pain as his reunited family took on the task of healing, he couldn’t feel anything but joy. Dean threw him a wink from across the yard and extracted himself from his mother’s grasp. Castiel stood and met him halfway.

Dean’s fingers rested lightly on Castiel’s hip bones, the slide of fabric rubbing against his skin. Castiel gripped Dean’s forearms and tugged him in closer. Dean flashed his beautiful smile again before angling down for a kiss, and Castiel lost himself in the sweetness of it, arms coming up lock around Dean’s neck as their lips broke apart only to catch again, not ready to let go of the moment.

When breathing finally became a factor, Dean drew back, chuckling softly. Their heads tilted, brow to brow, green eyes locked on blue and filled with nothing but love.

“Welcome home, Cas.”


	16. Epilogue

_ Two years later _

Dean looked into the crowded convention room. The room was buzzing with activity. His husband and father-in-law were sharing the stage with a handful of other fantasy writers. Cos-players milled about the room as they waited for the Q&A portion that was beginning soon.

Dean sat in a reserved spot near the front of the stage. Dean gave a little salute to Chuck and Cas, and his husband tossed him a wink that was more adorable than sexy and he couldn’t help his besotted grin if he tried. This convention marked the start of their vacation and their one year anniversary. They’d been married on the beach in mid-August in a sunset ceremony. It was easily the best day of Dean’s life and he was not ashamed to admit that he had cried during their vows. Benny’s restaurant had catered the wedding reception, clambake style, complete with a bonfire, fireworks, s’mores, and few drunken escapades into the icy water. 

For their honeymoon, they had spent a week in an over the top, cheesy hotel in the Pocono mountains complete with a heart-shaped jacuzzi. Both of their schedules were tight with weddings the bakery was catering and conventions and book signings Castiel had to appear at and hadn’t really allowed them more. But now that Dean had hired on additional help- a gifted young baker named Kara who made the best lemon curd Dean had ever tasted- and Castiel wrapping up his tour for the Angel Guardian series. Dean was going to face his fear of flying and spend two glorious weeks ravishing his husband's body on their private beachfront bungalow in Fiji.

Dean could see the line beginning to form, fans waiting to ask their questions. One thing that had fans buzzing this year for Castiel had been about his name. After the final book had been released, the public was surprised to see the familiar moniker Mr. Anonymous replaced with Castiel Novak, and up until today, Castiel had been coy about his reasoning. Often giving teasing answers like  _ I just needed a change _ , or  _ I was feeling Angelic.  _

“Okay, are we ready for our first fan question?” the Emcee asked the crowd, a round of applause sounding as a college-age girl stepped up to the microphone. 

“Hi, my question is for Mr. Edlund and Mr. Novak? Your work seems to carry similar themes, any chance of a collaboration?” 

_ Like father, like son _ . Dean laughed as Castiel and Chuck grinned at each other. This had been an ongoing discussion at home over Sunday dinners where Cas was adamant that he could not in good faith, work on a story in which his erotica skillset was something he had to discuss with his father.

“We’ve talked about it,” Chuck said even as Castiel called out an unwavering:  _ _ _ “No!” _

The simultaneous answers had the crowd laughing. 

“See, what most of you don’t know is that the remarkable Mr. Edlund here is actually my father, and there are just certain things you can’t write about with your dad, namely graphic angel porn.” A few of the other authors on stage were asked questions, but it wasn’t until near the end of the panel that Castiel was singled out with the one Dean had been waiting for.

“My question is for Mr. Novak. Are you ever going to tell us why you gave up your mysterious pen name?”

Castiel leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. His eyes met Dean’s and he made an exaggerated kissy-face, making Castiel laugh.

“That unfairly beautiful man in the front row is my Husband, Dean,” Castiel volunteered when necks craned to see who he was laughing at. “Say hello, husband,” Dean glared at Castiel before giving a half-hearted wave. “It’s our anniversary this weekend,” he said, laughing when someone in the audience wolf-whistled and cooed.

Castiel turned back to the girl who had asked the question. 

“It’s funny, that term. To  _ give up _ on something. It sounds sad, doesn’t it?” Castiel tugged at his ear as he scanned the crowd. Dean was not surprised in the least to see them all captivated; fellow authors on the stage included. “ For me, _ ‘giving up’, _ ” Castiel finger quoted, ”wasn’t sad at all, it was freeing. A rebirth if you will,” Castiel said loftily.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the promotional signs about my soon to be released novel _ .  _ It’s a story about a man who never really felt at home in his own skin. This man discovers, through a series of circumstances, that he was kidnapped as a child, and had  _ completely _ blocked it out,” Castiel’s eyes sought out Dean’s once more and Dean smiled at him reassuringly. “Taken at his own birthday party, right in front of his dearest friend,” and this time Castiel’s eyes lingered long enough that others followed his gaze, peering at Dean again. 

“ _ Finding Home  _ isn’t just some story, it’s my autobiography,” Dean could hear hushed gasps at Castiel’s words. “I gave up Mr. Anonymous because two years ago I finally remembered who I really am,” Castiel’s voice hitched for a second and Dean’s own eyes stung with emotion as they held a conversation without words;  _ I love you, I’m here for you, you’re my world.  _ “I wanted the world to know that I have reclaimed my life. I’ve found peace and a true love worthy of a fairytale,” Dean’s heart tripped at the way Castiel spoke, so strong and sure, and he wished nothing more than to be alone with him on their island paradise.

Sometimes it amazed Dean how eager he was to go off and travel with Castiel, and visit new places, especially after years of never leaving Salt Meadow Harbor. Then again, he thought to himself at the end of the panel as Cas climbed off of the stage and strode towards him, he supposed it was because Dean had also found his way home again. 

Dean smiled eagerly when the panel ended and his husband strode up to him with mischief in his ocean eyes.

“Are you ready to be fucked six ways from Sunday on the beach and get sand in uncomfortable places,” Castiel teased in his whiskey-soaked voice, wide-palmed hands running up Dean’s tee-shirt clad chest to lock behind his neck. Dean laughed brightly and captured Castiel’s mouth in an enthusiastic kiss, tasting coffee, cinnamon, and mint.  _ Yes _ . Wherever they might be; at their apartment above the bakery or frolicking on white sandy beaches, Dean’s home was with Castiel.


End file.
